I’m writing this sat on my garden steps, the birds are singing, the spring sun is shining and there is even just the gentlest wisps of a breeze. The girls are happily cleaning the garden toys after a winter of abandonment and I cant help but think that these are the days. These are the days that will stick in my memory when the girls have flown the proverbial nest. These are the days that I will look back on with a fond yearning. I will remember the sun highlighting the curls in their hair, I will remember their soft voices with the delicate lisp, I will remember the pure joy they got from dunking my flip flops in a bucket of water and how excited they were to show me that they had cleaned them.
I hope that I will also remember that that first paragraph took me at least twenty minutes to write as I was constantly being interrupted to wipe a snotty nose, to retrieve snacks, to refill the bucket of water and bubbles after Ruby had dumped it out because Emma didn’t like that the water was now muddy or to answer the repeated requests of ‘Come and play Mummy’, which I did, as who can resist a request like that; for how special it is to be wanted, to be not just any go to person, but to be their go to person and how lucky I am to have this unremarkably ordinary day to remember forever.