29th February 2012 Wednesday
Licking out the chocolate brownie bowl isn’t a job I want to share. The pussy cat thinks he’d like to join in but I won’t let him too near. The sun is pouring into the kitchen. I open the patio doors and we sit on the warm concrete step, my finger smearing up the sweet goo, his nose sniffing the rim of the bowl. I notice the first daffodil has come out in the pot by the back door. I find myself thinking about re-planting the beds in the garden, feeling the sun on my face. And remembering the strands of a life I used to have.
Wondering how to fill those spaces that used to be full of my father.