Breakfast at Suburbia

Breakfast  courtesy of Magpie Tales this week

Happy Easter!

"Breakfast? You must be joking. You know I never eat breakfast", she said.

"But I've made it especially for you, eggs, bacon, the lot. A surprise!", he said.

He had and the evidence of this magnificent feast littered the kitchen worktops. She cringed when she saw the remnants of an egg that hadn't quite made it into the frying pan cooking itself slowly on the heat of the stove.

But she didn't care now. She knew she wouldn't be here to clean it off and tidy it up later.

"You did remember to book the day off work? he asked enthusiastically? "I've got something special planned. I think you'll like it".

"Yes, yes I did", she answered.

Her mind drifted back to last night. What had she been thinking of? Why had she had so much to drink? It was the red wine, she knew she shouldn't drink that last glass but she did and it was then that she decided. By the end of the evening her mind had been made up. She couldn't do it any more. She couldn't pretend to be happy. She wanted to be free. Free to be herself, free to be her own person, free to hear her own voice, not the voices of her husband, her children, her family. It was all getting too much. She needed space, some time for herself. She was beginning to feel like Toby's hamster in the cage, running on that wheel, getting faster and faster and going ... nowhere. She knew she just needed to get off that wheel and lie down in a cool meadow in the peace and quiet for a day or two. She needed to collect her thoughts, to collect whatever remained of herself before life had smothered her in this domestic drudgery. Sure, she had a beautiful home, a loving husband and three reasonably behaved kids but there was nothing for her any more. She was wife, mum, sister and daughter. But who else? She so wanted to be someone else right now. She so wanted to be somewhere else right now. But where? Where would she go? What would she do? She hadn't worked since they married and that was ten years ago. Was she brave enough to go? Could she be herself somewhere else? Could she make it on her own? She knew it would be a lonely journey. She knew she had to do it. It was now or never.

If only he didn't love her so much, it would be so much easier.

"Come on, hurry up, you've got a long journey ahead of you", he smiled. 

He was so right, as always. 

How long does it take to finish something you're not working on?

daffodils by me!

“It’s amazing how long it takes to finish something you are not working on”.

R D Clyde

I know it’s been some time since I’ve blogged. 

A whole month has gone by. 

I suppose you thought I’d gone, disappeared or emigrated?

I didn’t do any of the above.

Perhaps you didn’t even notice but I did.

I quietly reprimanded myself up for not writing regularly.

Who am I to flatter myself by thinking that I’d be missed?

I wasn’t, was I?

The world goes on even in the stillness of the night.

Even in the absence of blogging. 

No excuses.

I simply got distracted, not by anything exciting.

Probably just lots of trivial stuff but it seemed to consume my blogging time.

Oh and I was so full of good intentions too.

I planned to write more and often.

But sometimes plans have a habit of becoming unplanned.

I thought I might inspire you with a beautiful poem I’d written.

But I realised that the only poem I’d written was still in my head.

It hadn’t made it to the page.

Maybe I’ll write it another day?

And now … well now it’s a challenge to get back into the writing rhythm.

Perhaps a little music might kick start the creative process?

I did consider restarting with a wonderful quotation from someone motivational and inspirational but there are so many to choose from,

I could be here some time.

I’ve got the makings of a story in draft.

But not had time to draft the ending yet.   

Think I’ll post this evening anyway

In the hope that tomorrow brings fresh thinking and creativity by the bucket load!