My daughter Christine, thinks I have a grudge against her.
She sees herself as number three in my affections. I have five children, and I don’t play favorites. Never have. It just happens that in some phases of life, there may be more of a closeness to one than the others.
I tell her that I don’t have a grudge against her personally, just against an opinion she has about my roll in the break-up of my marraige to her father, and how it affected my whole life.
She says I must put it all behind me and move on. That’s a sound principle in theory, and an easy thing to say, but not easy in practice. You see I believe that by accepting the emotional scars that were inflicted upon me, I would have to forgive the perpetrators.
As I sit at my computer, my beautiful ferret ‘Pippin’ is asleep on my lap. It’s hard trying to type one-handed but I don’t want to disturb her. She has been unwell with a cold that she caught from me, and which I caught from my husband. It has made her a bit sookie.
She has been so patient with me shoving antibiotics in her mouth, squirting saline nose spray in her nose and rubbing Vicks vapor rub under her nose to help her breathe.
Pippin has a mind of her own, she has the run of the house except at night,when she sleeps in her own house. As soon as she is let out in the morning, she checks to see if there is meat in her bowl, which is in the sitting room. On occasions, when it hasn’t been filled, she will go to the pet fridge, open the door with her paws, and help herself to the meat bowl on the bottom shelf.
I have seven pet ferrets in all. Pip became a house pet when her mother Minny, abandoned her at birth. Minny had eleven babies, which is a lot for a ferret jill. I don’t know why she didn’t like Pip but we took her and bottle fed her ourselves with a tiny little bottle and teat, doll size.
Contrary to the bad rap some people give ferrets, they are the most beautiful animals. Clean, affectionate and playful. The only time I have ever been badly bitten was by one who was in pain, and who subsequently had to be put to sleep. That was my gorgeous ‘Bella’.
The more blogs I read, the more certain I become that I will never be a world shattering writer. There are so many brilliant minds transferring brilliant thoughts from busily tapping fingers to screens of willing readers, like myself. I am a casual poet. It’s not in my makeup to try and force lines on to blank pages, and forcing it would be. My poetry comes out of nowhere at no particular time or place. This can be inconvenient at times, especially when there isn’t a pen in sight, or in the early hours of the morning when sleep evades me. By the time morning comes, the thread is broken, the brilliance faded.
My reading is also spasmodic. Sometimes I read a lot, other times hardly at all. I like to dabble in a few crafts and switch from one to another often on a daily basis. I’m a big fan of Dickens, and Tim Winton, but really it’s whatever takes my fancy at the time. I would love to read ‘Songs of Fire and Ice’ but that’s a future project because we are looking to move house in the next few months and there’s too much to think about between now and then.
Does anybody read my posts? I would like to think they do and that they enjoy my words.
The placed no value on the human life
growing within me,
To them, it was a gross inconvenience,
‘Your stepfather will pay for a Macquarie Street Specialist’,
As if, somehow, it becomes more acceptable
To have a Licenced Kill.
The boy gets his driver’s licence the second time around,
He remembers not to tell the testing officer to ‘get fucked’ this time,
He’s been saying those words since he was two and a half years old.,
It just isn’t cute anymore…….
In the days when black was white, he called me ‘Puddin’ ’cause I was skinny.
Those were the times I rode pillion on his Triumph for miles and miles without mother knowing,
We had sex when I was thirteen,
I thought it was love.,
He loved a lot of girls…….