How? A Mother’s Tale.

How can I love you more?

I gazed in wonder at your ten tiny fingers, your ten tiny toes and I knew that I was hopelessly, irrevocably lost.

How can I love you more?

Your first smile made my heart swell, your first illness sliced me to the core.

How can I love you more?

The memory of your first day at school etched forever on my mind as your tiny hand slipped from mine and you took the first faltering steps towards independence.

How can I love you more?

Standing tall, and proud on your first day at work, no longer a boy but a man.

How can I love you more?

It is incomprehensible that I could and yet with every second, every minute, every hour, I do.

 

This post was written for the Saturday Streams of Consciousness challenge hosted by Linda G. Hill. Write the first thing that comes to mind following a prompt and post. No editing allowed. This week’s prompt was ‘begin your post with how.’

Flash Fiction – Letting Go

Image courtesy of Liz Young

 

I paint on the smile that won’t reach my eyes and smooth my dress as though that will suddenly make me lose 10lbs. Today I want to be sparkling. Beautiful. Brilliant.

The church is full. The bride is young, thin, radiant. As full of hope as I once was. I bite back tears. I won’t cry. I won’t.

You’re so handsome as you walk down the aisle. I try to catch your eye but I’m invisible to you now. But I’m still your mum and I cling to that thought as tightly as you once clung to my hand.

Be happy, my love.

 

‘Letting Go’ was written for Friday Fictioneers. A weekly 100 word story challenge, inspired by a photo prompt. Thanks to Rochelle for hosting – you can check out the other entries, or join in, here.

 

SoCS – Objects

 

I was a teensy bit excited during a family day out at a museum yesterday, to discover there was an old toy room.

‘Ha.’ I cunningly thought, ‘I will take my children to see how the kids of yesteryear used to amuse themselves. They will be in awe that such pleasure could be found in a mere stick and ball and will come away grateful for their overflowing toy boxes’.

I envisaged hoops, a rocking horse and possibly a creepy faced china doll (the type my mum keeps in her wardrobe, too scared to look at it and yet reluctant to part with her childhood toy).

Umm no. Upon entering the room and briefly scanning the objects in their cases it became apparent that I was a child of yesteryear.

I had no idea I was old enough to have my childhood encased behind glass display cabinets but seeing these well loved toys instantly transported me back to endless summer days and Quality Street Christmases. A space-hopper, Sooty and Sweep glove puppets – I had Sweep, my sister (forever in charge) had Sooty, and a Girls World doll, were amongst my favourite things growing up.

 

There was, admittedly, a little bit of sniggering and ‘what’s the point of that?’ but the point of old school, non singing, non dancing toys was to encourage imaginative play in a way that all the technology in today’s world can’t. I wonder what impact this may have on the potential writers of tomorrow when fabricating their fiction?

 

 

Written for Stream of Consciousness Saturday. Write the first things that comes into your head following the prompt and post without editing. This weeks prompt was ‘objects’.