I’ve missed a day of posting. Three days into the whole 30 posts in 30 days and I’m already running to catch the bus. Sickness claimed me in those dark hours between Saturday night and Sunday morning and my body expelled everything it had taken in. Over and over again, just to make sure there wasn’t a droplet of the offending particle left to cause trouble. Very unpleasant for the person inhabiting said body.
I spent Sunday recovering on my very comfortable and handy chaise lounge, sipping flat ginger ale and dozing. There might have been just a wee bit of moaning. I tried to write something. Even got so far as to move my laptop to the corner of my nest, but the slightest blink of the cursor threatened to upend my stomach once more, so books, laptops and the tv were off-limits. Sipping, dozing and moaning were all I could handle.
And now you wonder, what has that got to do with the picture that greeted you at the top of the post? Nothing, it is merely the gate through which these words could flow. But to satisfy your curiosity I will tell you a story about them
Once upon a time, in the far distant past, there lived two little girls in a family of five children. By the time the older girl was five years old, the younger one, not quite yet three years old, was already as tall. Placed back to back their heads balanced a ruler. For several years it was imagined they were twins. Until the younger one continued to grow even taller, leaving the older one standing below the clouds.
When the family of five children moved from the city to a farm they were given the gift of their very own rooms. Except for the youngest child, still a toddler sleeping in his parents’ room. The older girl (but not the oldest girl) picked the small corner bedroom. The oldest girl picked a soon to be lavender front bedroom. And the youngest girl was left with the largest middle bedroom. All seemed happy and satisfactory.
Until the wind began to blow and the shadows of the trees began to bang upon the windows of the youngest girl’s bedroom. She ran to the older girl’s cozy corner bedroom and climbed beneath her covers and snuggled against her warm body and felt safe once more.
This began the bedroom struggle, wherein the younger girl wanted to share the older, now reluctant girl’s bedroom. Outwardly, and in the brightness of the day, the older girl loved her cozy bedroom all to herself. But secretly inside, and in the quiet darkness of the night, the ghosts and goblins of her imagination danced stories of fear inside her heart.
Circumstances changed within the family, as they are wont to do, and a farm helper was hired. Who needed a bedroom all to himself. So the cozy corner bedroom was given to the oldest boy and the older girl joined the younger girl in the middle bedroom. Which turned out to be a good thing, because shortly thereafter began the voyage of the bats who discovered a portal into the house through the cozy corner bedroom.
And so, in the years growing up, the older, now much shorter girl, shared a bedroom (and sometimes a bed, with a clearly delineated ‘line down the middle’) with her much taller, but younger sister. And even now, into their not so young years, the two sisters sometimes lie together in beds not their own and remember their childhood days…..