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Happiness On The Rural Streets Of France

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Today I felt happiness. A joy that ran through me, gliding past the smile on my face deep into my heart. Despite the bitter cold of a winter's afternoon, I felt the kind of warmth that tells you everything is alright.  The children laughed and danced from one cobble to another: One hop, two, and hop. The historic, uneven terrain acted as the perfect playground. I walked beside them, mud springing from my boots with each step.  Today we found the perfect place to break up our day of travel. A beautiful french village shielded from modernisation — a glimpse of a medieval past. Lining the cobbled streets were tiny stone houses adorned with quaint wooden frames — each wall decorated with intricate carvings and colourful shutters — a fairy tale hidden in rural France.  Before climbing back into our car, ready for the final leg of our journey, we stopped at the whimsical well central to the village. "Hello, hello, hello", our voices echoed back to us, making the children giggle...
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I No Longer Know My Destination

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I no longer know my destination. I dropped my ticket somewhere in this sinking sand, and it falls through my fingers every time I search for it.  I knew it was gone when the exhaustion became all-encompassing, its oppressive fog clouding my brain, its screams bleeding out of my aching muscles. The rain poured down from the dark clouds above me. I reached into my pocket, only to discover the map I had been carrying for all these years soaked through and useless. It was at that moment that I knew I was lost.  I have replaced creative joy with chronic illness. Swapped my focus for relentless fatigue. I launch flares into the air in moments of desperation, but my cries go unanswered. I am stranded on this grief-stricken island, and there is no boat ride home.  I hope one day I will emerge from bed with purpose, inspired by the newfound perspective and appreciation for life promised to me in motivational quotes and magazines. Until then, I lie here, throwing up my flares, tryi...
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Mummy, My Tummy Hurts

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"Mummy, my tummy hurts." The sound of my daughter's voice next to my ear wakes me from a deep sleep. I pull the duvet back as she crawls inside, curling her body into mine. A guttural sob escapes her mouth, and she crunches forward. 'Mummy, it hurts".  I lean in close, kissing her cheek and combing her hair with my fingers. "Do you want some Calpol?"  Dragging my body out of bed, I glance up at the clock. It's 3 am. Creeping downstairs, I try to not wake the dog. Barking would wake the house, and it's far too early for that. As I enter the kitchen, the stair gate creaks close behind me. I tiptoe to the cupboard door. The sticky syrup pulls into the syringe filling my nostrils with its nostalgic childhood smell. Comforted, I yawn and push the door closed. The medicine will make her feel better, and then we can all go back to sleep.  Her tears are falling down her cheeks when I arrive back to the bedroom. Her eyes are wide with fear. "It hurt...
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Starting Fresh

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I do not know my intention with this blog, but I have been blogging for eight years now, and I couldn't let it go.  With sadness, I closed my site Pens, Pencils, and Books last week. I started that blog in March last year. A pandemic lockdown project to keep my mind occupied in times of great stress. It began as a book blog, soon progressing to an attempted Etsy business with limited success. In April, I became too tired to continue with the project.  My first attempt at blogging was a mum blog, Transforming Into Butterflies. I loved that site. I filled it with stories and pictures from our daily lives, documenting my early years of motherhood.  Unfortunately, after two years, I became hesitant about the theme. Was I breaching my small children's privacy sharing their lives in this way? I didn't know, but I opted to shut Transforming Into Butterflies down. My love of writing remained. I have blogged in some form ever since.  Last week I was diagnosed with  Myalg...
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