The Palace Park

The Palace Park

Thursday, 19 February 2015

A riddle I shall call Enigma

So, my dear almost 5-year-old ghost son, where does the time go? The last 18 months have been gruelling, emotionally and physically. From London, to the Midwest, down to New Orleans and the Gulf of Mexico and back again, our household goods stranded in boxes across storage lockers and customs depots, suitcases our dearest friends.  And now we are back, back in London, back in the UK, back for another round, a new beginning. In so many ways.

Your sister is a lark, a sprite, an imp and I think she senses you at times. And now there is another whisper of a person on the horizon. At 37, it is not what I expected, but I am coming around to accepting my own unwitting complicity and am squaring my shoulders for the next round of maternal leanings.

You are in my heart and head every day, even now. I  contemplate what you would be like in the flesh and I wonder about your world now. 

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