I write this sitting* beside a stream flooded with thousands of tadpoles. Frogs not yet apparent. Drying mud cracks around my thumbs and finger. My throat is parched. A plane tumbles overhead. Dogs lie on the grass. And one cheek on my face is being warmed by the sun. My daughter is somewhere. Running around barefoot. And then she's back, poking sticks into the water, fascinated by the tadpoles.
She catches one, the little black squirm nestled between the dips of her fingers and she peers at it bringing it close for inspection. Then she lets it go again. The others are harder to catch. As I sit typing on my phone by the rocks near the stream, Eve comes over and scrambles over me. Snot smeared across a deliciously chubby cheek. I'm still typing, she's still scrambling. And then we pause.Two monkeys sitting, doing what monkeys don't particularly do on a Saturday afternoon in Sussex: sit and watch the water of the stream run by.
www.lfraser.com is sprouting and sharing is the water that helps this blog grow grow! Please share with those who appreciate the monkey in you. No bananas needed.
PS: If you enjoyed this you may also like: The Habit of Remembering
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* My grand-mother's favourite opening line of any book was from Dodi Smith's I Capture The Castle. Deanie - this is for you xx