I miss her, Mum, even though she’s not gone. Still here, but not. I see a flash of her smile and hear her laugh. Drying dishes. Tears in my eyes, wishing for easy conversations. I move on. Wipe down the kitchen bench-top; my daughter has left hot glue gun remnants soldered onto the surface. I […]
hands
Hands through the ages
‘What are those blue, bumpy bits?’ she asks me, as I reach out with my hand to turn the page of the book we are reading. ‘Those are my veins,’ I say simply with a smile. I can see from her face that she thinks they are kind of ugly. ‘What are veins?’ she asks. […]