Those laughing eyes
Like a calico cat you grew
up proud and beautiful.
We remember you pointing
a little finger at the yellow
flower patch by your
play cabin, bobbing high
on the rope swing
then scooting with a handful
of daisies, even stepping
around prickly thistles
past daddy’s hammock
and running like
a windy gust across pieces
of wood for a sidewalk.
Our backyard trees still
surround walls once
made of blankets, momma’s old
cushion and faded table
remain, also a slab of panel
cut for a roof.
Come visit soon and be our
little girl once again.
“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