Snapshot one - an abandoned green and yellow shopping trolley, in the kitchen, containing one jar of peanut butter.
Heartstrings, tugged.
Snapshot two - My daughter shouts at me from the sitting room as I'm bent over the bin, digging dog shit from the grooves of her runners, late for school and shouting back. Bodhi stands behind me, holding my legs and crying in fear at the raised voices.
No need to comment.
Snapshot three - we sit at the table eating dinner, Bodhi delicately sprinkles grated cheese on his risotto, with chubby 14 month old fingers, and Olivia eagerly tells me about the older kids asking her and her friends to play duck duck goose at breaktime, and she got chosen! New names are mentioned, of the kids who sit at her table.
The ice is breaking for her, and this feels exactly how it's all meant to be.
A rare moment, but one we all deserve, affirmation that we can know it as it should be.
2 comments:
I never thought of wording snapshots while they happen... lovely idea :) I've the memory of a goldfish, I'd have to whip out a writing pad periodically though.
Tell me about it you know when they say soemthing hilarious or meaningful, and you think, I can't wait to tell their Dad, and then by the time you see him, you can remember they said something, but you ahve no idea what. HAppens all the time!
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