Screen Space Friend

9.16am

Screen space friend, you don’t talk back but you are my friend because you help me order my thoughts. Thoughts that run like the river at the back of the house.

Naoise noticed how much colder it was as we left for school, after only ten foot of scootering he came to a frozen stop, and refused to move. Parents and their children passed me and gave knowing and empathetic looks.

I scooped him up onto my shoulders so that we could get going. Its hard to carry a child on your shoulders and a scooter under your arm.

All is grey today, no sun at all. On the walk to school, I pointed out the one speck of blue behind the cloud cover. Naoise remembered the pigeon egg that we saw on the canal footpath the day before. I hadn’t wanted to pick ┬áthe egg up and have a closer inspection because we could see that there was blood inside. He also remembered the blue shell of the egg that we found in the wood at the weekend. I can’t think where we put it though.

Naoise scootered for the second half of the school run. He scootered at high speed down the pavement, I had to slow him, its scary how fast he can travel and I fear that he might fall over the top of the bars of his scooter, or veer off into the road and under the wheels of a passing car.

The lolly pop man always makes a passing comment. A jolly comment. Jollying us all to school and across the road. He is a kind, observant man. Ordinary. A great philosopher. He notices that I am struggling to keep up with the pace of Naoise scootering. We cross the road and thank the lolly pop man for making our passage safe.

As we walk up the stone steps I notice all the weeds growing in-between the cracks in the stone walls. I notice the pram hugging the corner. I see a friend, I wish I could talk to her but she is busy and I am busy and there is not much company this week.

Caw Caw Caw the crows sing.

The hawthorn blossom has fallen onto the tarmac of the playground. I wanted to take a picture but my mobile phone had run out of batteries. Naoise had been playing games on it a at the breakfast table,  prior to leaving for school.

Syd is still at home unwell. I tried. I tried. I tried to get him to school today, but he is pale and slow and has a headache, he must be feeling bad if he has what I have, I talk to him about resilience. Lectures don’t seem to work, I wonder why I bother with this line of conversation. I can’t give up on him though. I spoon feed him medicine, tuck him in bed, make sure he is fed, tell him I love him, try to be kind and patient. It makes me feel bad that I cannot nurse him more, but I simply do not have the time this week I have to write a job application.

Beep beep beep beep the oven buzzer sounds.

 

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