It's very noisy at my mother's house, surrounded by fields and orchards, deep in the Devonshire countryside. I woke early to let Mollie out and was struck by the early morning racket that us townies don't have. The raucous squawk of a pheasant across the fields; the rusty gurgle of next door's hens; a pigeon's persistent coo. In the eaves outside our window, a family of sparrows twitter from their nest; above it all a cow's long drawn out bass moo. I opened the door and was struck by the heady rich smell of summer roses; the fresh aroma of dew on grass, cool and wet against hot feet.
Upstairs, Himself was also awake and threw his book on the floor. 'It says it's his debut novel,' he said (pronounced 'day boo'). 'He should take up windowcleaning.'
At times like this I want to hold time still. On the outside he's 66 but inside I know he's really a six year old boy, and I want him to stay like that. I never usually think about our age difference (18 years) but sometimes it hits me and I panic, want him never to get any older. I shut my mind to that grey area, try not to think about that bit of our future, for what's the point? I look at my mother, nearly 80, who looks like a young girl at times. I watched Himself as we listened to Just a Minute yesterday and thought, yes, there's that six year old. What is age, after all?
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4 comments:
What is age indeed? tahnks for visitng me. Will link to you. You'll get even more visitors though if you leave comments too on the blogs you visit!
Like your blog!
The other day I had a discussion with my Mum about how old she was. She said she felt no different from when she was 18 (she's nearing 65). I guess age is how you feel and not just a number.
RT.
My mum said the other day, her eyes sparkling, 'I'm 78 and I feel 23!' (This was concerning a man!!)
I'm getting older (obviously!) but, like Rebecca's mum, I never FEEL any older or (sadly!) act any older.
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