Saturday, 2 January 2010
Bit of this
Water seeping through red bricks, forming icicles that hang from the arch of Marston Doles canal bridge. What a lovely name Marston Doles.
He brings me a bowl of christmas pud and the jug of cream, upstairs, to temp me away from trying hard but getting nowhere.
Christmas has been boxed, and put away for now. Within the actions, are shards of memories from past and present.
Flashes of red punched through the blues. Small crimson baubles, given by Y, galvanized me from lethargy, into action on christmas eve. They decorated twigs, adorned with ivy, 3 glowing red glass triangular kings, and fairy lights. As their brilliance of color sparkles, I begin to notice dashes of red every where. On cards, dotting 2 miniature ornaments, inherited from beloved nanny. A bright red vase filled with matching silk flowers, brought long ago on a whim, to celebrate Christmastime. Garish maybe but a jolt of joy when I glimpse them warming their dark corner. A tiny red bow on the boys card. I catch all that redness, and with it I see the merest whispers echoed within the snaps of the children. I receive unexpected surges of happiness here and there. (Ironic considering red was the color that has caused me many a panic attack, with the taking, giving, poisoning a body to get it to behave, and that heart stopping moment before a result. For all his tenaciousness and punching above his weight it wouldn't be tamed). Bit like me really, push this Champaign cork down and eventually I will bounce back up with a fizz.
Bless you Y for the small box that held within more than tiny crimson baubles. I start the new year, actually looking forward.
Bit of that
One of our national treasures.