Collecting honey
Of dreams
Nurtured
but not yet realised,
For the loved child
whose wings
were seized
Mysteriously
When more determination and assessments,
Speechies, physios and occ therapy
are not enough,
Fair child has stopped,
Regresses, slowly progresses
When there is finger-pointing
By those in authority,
When many hoped-for milestones
Have a recurring ‘not good enough’ theme
Parental love is magnified,
Torched,
Endlessly yearns,
It reclaims
Resurfaces, begging,
Where can my child and I dance
Happy orbital dreams!
beyond developmental trajectories?
I deflect ignorant stares,
Nurse my pride with emergency care
I predict nothing, mercifully,
Hear the trumpets heralding each new day,
Pick up the bucket wistfully,
I go and collect the honey.
“Being at home can be fun, insulating, relaxed, boring or isolating ... depending on how the day is going.”*
School holidays are almost over in my part of the world – six long weeks of noise and squabbling balanced by hot, lazy days at the beach or the pool with lots of daring exploits and laughter. Many of our days were spent at home, basking in simple pleasures like baking, playing games or outdoor pursuits – trying to relax the everyday routines of school-morning bustle and ‘having to be somewhere on time’. However pleasant, I must admit to being relieved that life gets back to normal next week, and I can reclaim some of my own time for writing again!
* From Being Mummy by Anne‑marie Taplin published April 2007