Monday 28 January 2013

Small stone

Now he's asleep in his pushchair I have time to be mindful. But all I do is judge harshly the brassy woman across the aisle because she has her black boots up on the seat and because she keeps issuing wet sneezes.

Sunday 27 January 2013

Small stone

The pit-pit-pitter-patter of crumbs landing on the newspaper under the highchair. When he is grown and far away I will suddenly remember it and tears will spring to my eyes.

Friday 25 January 2013

Small stone.

I put on a green empire-line dress and look in the mirror. A pregnant woman looks back at me. We both smile.

Thursday 24 January 2013

Small stone

Yawning policeman comes round the corner. Radio chatters, nothing of interest, nothing to investigate.

Tuesday 22 January 2013

Small stone

The men who carried the coffin soak their trouser cuffs by trooping away respectfully across unbroken snow.

Monday 21 January 2013

Small stone

Cocky men, strutting in hi-vis waistcoats, come with orange snow shovels on new white wood handles to chase the last of the snow off the pavements.

Sunday 20 January 2013

Small stone

One by one specks of snow fall and cover the garden one by one.

Saturday 19 January 2013

Small stone

Off the path and across the grass. The frozen ground under the snow is solid, certain and reassuring.

Friday 18 January 2013

Small stone

Picking up pieces of dinosaur. The pleasing clunk of wooden toys and a pleasing clear floor.

Wednesday 16 January 2013

Small stone

Got up early. Almost too cold and almost too busy to stand on the doorstep, milk bottle in each hand, staring at the blushing sky.

Tuesday 15 January 2013

Small stone.

"Moon!" says Alec-aged-two twisting his hand in mine so he can point behind us. I feel ashamed and guilty because he is the one showing me wonders that I did not notice because I am too worried about getting home for the next meal.

Monday 14 January 2013

Small stone.

An improve-your-life email reminds me that kissing my husband is a good idea. I don't need an email to tell me that. When he comes in, I am distracted by our toddler and I miss my welcome home kiss.

Sunday 13 January 2013

Small stone

The sky has failed to deliver the promised snow, except for a few cold pinheads as feeble and as widely scattered as city sky stars.

Saturday 12 January 2013

Small stone

I wonder if Alec will remember when he was small enough to eat every weekend meal 'on Daddy knee'. Their contentment is so sharp that it must be etched on to this place in the kitchen. A happy shade, our gift to the future tenants.

Friday 11 January 2013

Small stone

The stars shine feebly on this hazy night. So very sad and far away.

Thursday 10 January 2013

Small stone

Staring into the middle distance and trying to relax for the picture. I didn't know you could see the Church of King Charles the Martyr's cupola from your garden.

Wednesday 9 January 2013

Small stone

"Day light gone," says Alec. It's after four and the light is a bruised mauve, muddy indigo in the dark places, like the shadows under tired eyes.

Tuesday 8 January 2013

Small stone

Kale forgive my tearing fingers, my knife and boiling water. The cooked leaves are still bright green and still substantial between my teeth.

Monday 7 January 2013

Small stone

Little brown birds scatter -- nothing to see but the white feathers under their tails.

Sunday 6 January 2013

Small stone

With my ear pressed to my husband's chest I can hear the flesh machine's percussions and washings.

Friday 4 January 2013

Small Stone

The wake-up ammonia smell of the nappy bucket is no longer unpleasant -- just normal.

Thursday 3 January 2013

Small Stone

The tiny pick-pick-pick of drizzle on the bag of rubbish in my hand.

Wednesday 2 January 2013

Small Stone

Pencil grey slate roof tiles have sucked most of the water out of the wool grey sky.

Tuesday 1 January 2013

Small Stone

This is my first post in Satyavani Robin's 2013 Mindful Writing Challenge. She calls them small stones, I would call them beautiful things, but they don't actually have to be beautiful in any way at all.

When I stop, right in the way, to stare at the sky there are white clouds sailing overhead. When I turn back at the end of the street, the sky is clear and clean blue again.