I’m not the girl I used to be…

For the past few years every time I’ve sat in the hairdresser’s chair I’ve looked with dismay at the woman staring back at me. She gets older and older with each visit and more and more tired – I thought getting your hair done was supposed to be a treat!

The lovely natural colour has slowly faded from my hair and after losing Andrew an extra spark was lost from my features. Oh I don’t suppose many people really saw it, maybe it’s just the passing of time and the pressures of modern family life taking its toll.

However yesterday was strangely different.

As I sat in the hairdresser’s chair and watched her blow dry the golden pink strands that currently frame my face, giving me some much needed colour, I know for certain Andrew wouldn’t have liked the "drastic" colour change but I do – I like it very much. For once I smile at my reflection and my eyes somehow sparkle.

I am suddenly aware that I’ve changed inside and out, slowly and sometime imperceptibly over the past almost three years – how did time fly quite so fast?

And then I read this poem which Mark Ethridge has written for this week’s #MWBB (Mid Week Blues Buster) and it makes me cry because I can hear Andrew’s voice, although he would never have been so eloquent with his words. 

READ IT BY CLICKING HERE!

It explains that if the person writing the poem had stayed the one left behind couldn’t have grown or ever realised their true potential.

And deep down I know this is true for me. 

(But I’m never sure how it works for the boys; they should never have lost their dad at such a young age. I guess some things will remain a mystery and I will never understand God’s way of doing things. )

Anyway Mark’s poem inspired my own, whether it is a proper poem or a prose poem or just some random thoughts I’m not sure but this is my reply…

I’m not the girl I used to be

I don’t think I’m any stronger, more resilient, extra resourceful

But with tiny steps each day I grow ever so slightly more confident

I’m not happier or more sad in my situation

But now when I laugh it’s louder, 

          the noise so precious I want it to resound forever

and when I cry it comes out from such a depth 

          that I never knew existed before

I know I wouldn’t be this person …

          … if you had stayed

I couldn’t be this person …

          … if you were still here

I found her lost and lonely in my own reflection 

          but together we have grown

I don’t want to be better without you than with you in my life

But part of me really likes the new me

And I like her more and more each day

As she grows and changes, forever a wonderful new work in progress

And sometimes I wonder what you’d think of me now

… if we could somehow meet

… because I’m not the girl you left behind …

… I’m not the girl I used to be.

Mid Week Blues Buster - STAY

Well it's a week for participating in new writing prompts. I have always liked the look of Jeff Tsuruoka's Mid Week Blues Buster challenge but have never quite had the time to fit it in.

Instead of a picture or a word or even nine words his prompt is a song. Then you write a story of about 500 words, but the rules are very lenient and the story can be anything from 300 to 700.

This week’s prompt is provided by Manchester duo… Hurts.



The song is, “Stay”.  Here’s the link; http://youtu.be/1nP3XB7hrFo

And here's the story it inspired...

We say goodbye in the pouring rain, you shake my hand like the true gentleman you are.

Then you turn and leave without a single word.

But then you’ve already told me this is never going to work. Your letter so articulate and neatly written in your cursive old fashioned handwriting explaining everything.

Holding in all my raw emotions I watch you walk away, your umbrella aloft protecting you from the storm. Once you turn the corner, without so much as a backwards glance, tears run down my face mingling with raindrops. 

I can’t move yet all I want to do is run after you and beg you to stay - please. We can make this work - somehow. That’s what love is all about. Compromise, give and take, call it whatever you like.

Was it a mistake to see you one final time?

Well one last time for me but for you this is actually our very first meeting – isn’t it funny how time travel works – I’m not sure I’ll ever understand why our days together had to be so brief when you had the capacity to turn an hour into an entire lifetime.

What is the point of your gift if you can’t use it to be happy or to make those you love happy too?

In your time, the you who’s just left me standing here, oblivious to how I even feel, you’ve not even written this letter yet, this letter that is fading before my eyes. 

At first I think it is just the ink running, words smudging in the wet but as I look closer the blue script is not running but erasing line by line. I trace the disappearing words with my finger until I have nothing left of you.

I feel wobbly as if my legs will no longer hold my weight.

Time is being re-written.

And then the rain stops, at least it no longer drips on my head or runs down my face.

I look up to see the shadow of a big black umbrella and your smiling face.

“It’s all been a mistake,” you whisper softly, “I’ve decided to stay!”

360 words

A letter to... the fly on the wall

Today I'm trying out a new writing challenge it's called "letters to..."

Unlike most writing prompts I take part in this one is not about writing fiction, although I suppose there's nothing to stop you. Also this prompt is hosted by two Christians, Ruth and Sabrina so it has a different feel to it and is much more like my real life posts than the made up stories I write.

Here's how "letters to..." works.

Twice a month, we will provide you with a Letters To prompt and a welcoming space to share it.  The link-ups will be hosted alternately by Ruth at {learning one day at a time} and Sabrina at Just Keep Singing.  You can visit either site to find out the prompt. 

Today's prompt is letters to... the fly on the wall, although this one is really written to the fly that annoyingly buzzes around my bedroom just as I get into bed each night...

Oh you’re back are you, buzzing around my head again like my random thoughts as I lie here trying to sleep.

I really wish I could understand your buzzing, I wish you could tell me what you see in the other rooms of my house.

Youngest is sleeping soundly, I checked before I went to bed but oldest son, what’s he up to? I can still see a light beneath his tightly closed bedroom door.

It’s not that I want to spy on my teenage son but I wish I knew what went on in his head. 

Mr Fly do you know?

Are you privy to those hidden thoughts as you dart about the house?

What I’m really asking, what's really on my mind tonight, is how much do they miss their dad? 

I know I sometimes cry myself to sleep, even now almost three years on, caught up in a web of grief, sticky and sometimes so unrelenting. 

But the boys appear so detached from their emotions as if they have wrapped up their feelings in a box labelled DAD – DO NOT OPEN! 

I worry too much I suppose that they never want to TALK whereas I need to talk and write all the time just to keep my head straight, which could be why I’m now writing to you – the fly on the wall – my only company at midnight.

Is it just that boys are different from girls? 

I don’t know much about the transfer deadline window or how to put together a scalextric track. I feel like I fail them every day because I just don’t understand their world.

Am I good enough on my own to be both mum and dad to them?

Am I strong enough to hold all this together?

Am I brave enough for all the challenges that come my way?

Oh fly on the wall – I’ve asked too many questions and you will never truly understand.

But as I turn out the light and lay my head on the pillow you stop your incessant buzzing and in the silence I know there is someone who really does watch over us all and HE whispers...

“Go to sleep – please don’t worry, 

you are doing great!”

I wish I did always have that certainty and that I didn't keep doubting.

I wish that dratted fly would just buzz off!

Now it's your turn what would you write to ... the fly on the wall? 

The Day We Met Tim Vine

My brightest highlight of the summer happened one Wednesday afternoon. I’ve never been much of a fan of Wednesdays, I even wrote a blog post about it once but 21st August 2013 was probably the best Wednesday there has ever been, except perhaps the one when I was born!

Youngest son and I were in Edinburgh waiting for the Tim Vine Chat Show, there wasn’t much of a queue when we arrived, just one family of 4 in front of us but we still had over half an hour to wait. I’d already made youngest son walk round the courtyard once so we didn’t appear too keen!

There had been a few spots of rain earlier in the day but suddenly the clouds parted, I slipped off my cardigan and enjoyed the summer sunshine on my bare shoulders, glad for the first time that day I had chosen my pretty, strappy summer top to wear. 

Then I looked around and spotted Tim Vine walking towards us!!!!!

I manhandled youngest son so he was looking in the right direction, he’s never been terribly observant.

“Who can you see?” I hissed in his ear. “Do you want to show him your Lego figure?”

is it a banana or is it a torch?

I got the Lego man out of my pocket thinking we would have to pounce as Tim walked past to get his attention but he actually came and stood behind us in the queue, cheekily asked who we were waiting for and if was he any good.

He liked the Lego version youngest son had made to show him. 

Personally I liked the real version standing in front of us, he looked just as gorgeous as he does on TV and I couldn’t believe he was standing here talking to us!

Is now a good time to mention I have a tiny little crush on him and he was the main reason we had chosen Edinburgh for our holiday destination?

When he wandered off the lady in front of us in the queue said she had a photo of us talking to him. Well a photo with a bit of us in, she had tried to cut us off altogether, but she offered to email it to me. My hands were shaking as I typed my email address into her unfamiliar phone.

The queue started to grow then, oblivious that the star of the show had just been chatting with us.

Eventually the doors opened and we sat ourselves down on the front row in the middle, it was a small venue and the stage was only inches away!

As part of the show Tim invites members of the audience on stage to interview them.  He said outside that he liked youngest son and he should fill in a form but as he wasn’t bothered and I was I filled in the form and made sure I had handed mine back first! I wrote “My son’s the one with the Lego figure!” just to increase my chances of being picked.

The lights dimmed and I sat getting nervous – what if he picked me? Or worse - what if he didn’t?

Too late to worry about that now Tim Vine burst onto the stage, larger than life wearing a pair of glasses made from sweets.

“EYE CANDY!” He said.

From where I was sitting he really didn’t need them – and I had a whole hour to sit back, relax, enjoy the show from pole position – hahahahaha!

Well he sang a song, something about miracles that I’ve never heard before and suddenly there is a microphone in front of my face. Fortunately before I even get chance to open my mouth you can hear a disembodied voice coming over the speakers singing a line of the song – oh why, oh why did we sit so close? My face probably matched my freshly dyed red hair now - well I did want him to notice me!

Do I believe in miracles? Hmmmmm – maybe? Can I think about that one?

He said, “My hamster died today but that’s OK he left me something in his wheel!”

Then he made the “mistake” of getting youngest son on stage to show off his Tshirt with a hamster face on it.

is it a guinea pig or is it a hamster?

“It’s a guinea pig!” Youngest son corrected – no microphone required for his outburst! He’s very fond of this Tshirt, the face looks just like our guinea pig Flash. Most beloved guinea pig in the world since our other guinea pig Fluffy died earlier in the year.

Youngest son sat down, I probably blushed even more from embarrassment as Tim Vine laid his hand on my shoulder, “You’ll have problems with him,” he said or something in a similar vein.

“I know.” I muttered meekly. 

Tim Vine had his hand on my shoulder and my son had just been so rude and the moment passed in a blur…

We’d already moved on, more jokes, songs, the first guest, a man who sold oxygen to hospitals!

Then suddenly it was my turn as my name was called and I was up on stage.

Now I’d meticulously planned this moment, I’d planned what I was going to wear (that strappy top was a definitely a great idea, I've often thought my shoulders were one of my best features!)  I was going to be the best guest ever. I was going to be articulate, witty, pretty…

I even imagined a daydream where things didn’t go so perfectly, one where I tripped getting up on stage and Tim Vine caught me – hahahahaha!

None of these things happened – I almost wished I wasn’t there – but only ALMOST!

Today I shall be pretty and witty and funny but suddenly I can’t string together a sentence or a story. It’s not the first time I have gone to pieces, lost for words in front of an attractive single man, I don’t suppose it will be the last.

I try to tell the tale of the time I ended up in a cage with 5 baby gorillas, but I don't sound all that coherent. 

I look into the audience and you can’t see anyone beyond the front two rows, the lights are so dazzling.

I was at college and we were making a film about endangered animals and I had to interview the zoo keeper and this all made perfect sense when I thought about it in the middle of the night.

And all the while Tim is telling other jokes between my disjointed sentences, he touched my knee as he thought of another one to tell and wanders off.

“It’s not about you.” I remember him saying.

“You know when you are trying to do a serious interview and it doesn’t quite go to plan!” 

Where did that come from? 

Oh that was me, I’d found my voice and I got a laugh from the darkness. I giggled suddenly trying to be demure and bashful, I think I even fluttered my eyelashes, was this really the best time to start flirting?

It wasn’t long before I found myself back in my seat in the front row! 

PHEW - that was hard work – I hope I didn’t really upset him?

Then he asked to see the Lego model to show everyone so I guess I didn’t disgrace myself too much!

All too soon the hour was up and youngest son and I pushed our way through the crowd, we had to run to get to Radio 2 tent for the Simon Mayo Drivetime Show – rumour had it Tim Vine would be there with his confession so we really couldn’t miss that!

“Well done!” Someone said to me as we left.

“Thank you!” I answered somewhat relieved the show was over – I don’t think I could do that for a living!