A Comfy Kind Of Restless

Hey there 🙂

How are we at Wednesday already?!  Wrote this pretty late tonight as Youngest has been off all day with more rashy type stuff, and Hubby has been at work…so I’ve done less walking than a full school/nursery run, but more than I have since Friday (and pushing a grumpy 4.5 year old in a buggy the whole time) because the kids were off ill on Monday, too! Gotta love the winter viruses: you just think they’re better and some other random symptom pops up…

I think my subconscious has been whipping up wisps, rather than going at this week’s story in a linear fashion, so I reckon a lot of what I have written since Monday will be scrapped, or at the very least rehashed into the story I finish with.  I like the character name I have (which Hubby gave me when I was struggling in the last few seconds of Monday’s scribblefest!) but I have lots of swirly ideas and plots in my skull…

I am trying to trust the process, it’s all part of growing into the writer I was born to be.  She doesn’t like rules very much, it would seem 😛

Marylin often thought back to how her mother scolded her, realising now the fears the older woman was trying to supress.  Hearing in the echoes of motherly admonishment the harsh truths that were being battled against, Marylin felt ashamed of her flippant remarks, or (worse) outright defiance.  She could not remember her mother having many friends that stopped by, and certainly none she could definitely rely on, to leave her precious charge with. 

Maternity was bound up in fragrant sheets, gingham aprons and well-scrubbed pans of comforting food, in Marylin’s mind.  It was an ideal she aspired to, but was always struggling to attain.  There was never the right odour to her bedclothes, and her kitchen did not shimmer in the morning sun.  Healthy plants did not festoon Marylin’s windows, no roses peeped in at her doors.

The family cat preferred to dine at the neighbours’ and the coffee mornings she hosted never seemed to get past the stilted stage.  One never knew how much was enough, when one’s spotlight was truly at rest. 

Or when a critical review might ruin one’s whole week…

(184 words)

[Pic is from here]

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