I have built and hammered, painted and sanded, climbed and crawled. My back hurts so much I cannot stand straight. I am so tired I am slurring my words. My hair is damp with sweat. Yet I am brimful with happiness and pride. This room will make my son’s life better. It is perfect.
The Offering
A gift has been left for me. Rich, warm chocolate, piled up high: a chunk falls from the fresh mound. The consistency is just soft enough, its scent perfuming the air. I am careful not to step in it and hold my nose as I pass.
New Life
Pinkest of cheeks, perfect mouth, eyes closed tight. Skin so soft I can barely feel it. Long skinny fingers and deep lines etched into the palms of her hands. A warm and comforting weight nestled in my arms: my new niece sleeps.
The Pain of Worry
“It’s harder when it’s your daughter” she tries to say, but her voice breaks on the last word, her throat thick with worry. Tears pool in her eyes and she swallows hard.
The Hunt
Ears like brushed suede, pricked and alert; glossy black pelt twitching; amber eyes giving way to black pupils. The kitten crouches, intently watching the children as they play. Her haunches rise instinctively: she draws back and launches. The children are immersed in their game; the hunt goes unnoticed.
A small stone a day 