A box of birds

by Bonnie Pockley

The long days of an approaching summer are starting to set in. We no longer leave the windows open but keep them shut up tight with all the blinds drawn so that the house stays cool. Many a time, I’ve come into a room and les enfants are lying on the floor, lolling in the heat. At first it was alarming but now I join them, sprawled on the floorboards, gazing at the ceilings. With Hame home the twins are a box of birds – laughing loudly, loving the time with their Dad, showing off and being wickedly funny. Every day, in the cool of the late afternoon he takes them to the school grounds to explore the bubblers, the steps and the grounds; running free in a wide open space where there’s an ever so slight, sling-back echo. While he’s gone, I sleep, which is like quenching a very deep thirst – never waking, never dreaming.  I also have a new can’t-live-without elk patterned jumper which I bought from some girls at a garage sale and take everywhere with me – despite the heat – because, I guess, I’m in love.

1. Pax in Mamma’s hat 2. Inca toppling 3. Strutting her stuff 4. Little boy bum 5. Basking 6. Iced watermelon, mint, lemon juice crushie 7. Bed 8. Obsessed with the detail 9. New thrifted favourites 10. Mamma wears her favourite jumper – must be a mad woman 11. Taken everywhere.

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