This morning I came across the Life Captured Inc. blog, and on a slight whim, I have decided to follow their writing prompts for the month of December. I am looking forward to writing in a bit more detail about the little things that characterise my every day life.
December 1st writing prompt: Describe a moment from today that you always want to remember.
There are days in our weeks that have a rhythm mapped out, a familiar regularity to them that help me to feel like I have little markers that indicate the passing of time in a simple way. These are not complicated or fancy things, just the daily tasks that need to happen every week to keep our household running and our tummies fed. Monday's are for laundry and food shopping. Today, the forecast is for an overcast day, but, all importantly, there is no rain on the horizon. I constantly flit between a stubborn refusal to admit that I live in one of the wettest parts of England, and a hope that there will be just enough breeze to dry our washing in the shortened hours of daylight that December brings. With the laundry blowing gently on the washing line, we head out to buy our food for the week.
These days, food shopping is more involved. Rather than popping my baby in the sling to sleep or quietly gaze at all the supermarket offers, she now sits up in the shopping trolley, pointing at everything that catches her eye, initiating conversation through her non verbal cues. She loves this time, this chance to ride around in a trolley. As I sit my daughter in the trolley, I wonder if I will always think like this; always thinking about how she is changing and what she used to be like.
On our way home, we pop into the greengrocers where we buy our fruit and vegetables. As always, we are greeted by Ahmed, the kind shop owner who always gives Ruby a medjool date to enjoy on the journey home. Today is just a little bit different; normally we walk there, but as naptime is not yet imminent, we go there in the car, straight from the supermarket. The shop is always quiet when I visit on a Monday morning, and today is just the same. We are the only customers there. I know Ahmed well enough to be comfortable with sitting Ruby on the floor while I walk around the little shop, gathering aubergines, parsnips, clementines and other colourful delights. Ahmed expresses concern that Ruby will get cold on the floor, so picks her up and takes her to sit in his armchair behind the counter. I want to remember how comfortable she is with this; reclined on the faux-fur cushion with a giant satsuma in her hand, just watching Ahmed go about his job while I potter around the shop. This daughter of mine who is always looking to climb, makes no attempt to get down from the high perch Ahmed has gifted her with. Instead, she is content to just be. To relax and observe. Today as we leave, we are given an extra gift-a British apple for Ruby to munch on, and for the whole journey home, she munches steadily on her apple, making contented noises to express her enjoyment of her snack. As Ruby helps me unpack the shopping, I smile as I remember Ahmed's advice to handle the scotch bonnet chilli's with great care; his fatherly concern for Ruby coming through as he tells me how much the seeds can burn when we touch them.
I want to remember these small details of our Monday's. The simple things that punctuate our quiet beginnings of each week.
December 1st writing prompt: Describe a moment from today that you always want to remember.
These days, food shopping is more involved. Rather than popping my baby in the sling to sleep or quietly gaze at all the supermarket offers, she now sits up in the shopping trolley, pointing at everything that catches her eye, initiating conversation through her non verbal cues. She loves this time, this chance to ride around in a trolley. As I sit my daughter in the trolley, I wonder if I will always think like this; always thinking about how she is changing and what she used to be like.
On our way home, we pop into the greengrocers where we buy our fruit and vegetables. As always, we are greeted by Ahmed, the kind shop owner who always gives Ruby a medjool date to enjoy on the journey home. Today is just a little bit different; normally we walk there, but as naptime is not yet imminent, we go there in the car, straight from the supermarket. The shop is always quiet when I visit on a Monday morning, and today is just the same. We are the only customers there. I know Ahmed well enough to be comfortable with sitting Ruby on the floor while I walk around the little shop, gathering aubergines, parsnips, clementines and other colourful delights. Ahmed expresses concern that Ruby will get cold on the floor, so picks her up and takes her to sit in his armchair behind the counter. I want to remember how comfortable she is with this; reclined on the faux-fur cushion with a giant satsuma in her hand, just watching Ahmed go about his job while I potter around the shop. This daughter of mine who is always looking to climb, makes no attempt to get down from the high perch Ahmed has gifted her with. Instead, she is content to just be. To relax and observe. Today as we leave, we are given an extra gift-a British apple for Ruby to munch on, and for the whole journey home, she munches steadily on her apple, making contented noises to express her enjoyment of her snack. As Ruby helps me unpack the shopping, I smile as I remember Ahmed's advice to handle the scotch bonnet chilli's with great care; his fatherly concern for Ruby coming through as he tells me how much the seeds can burn when we touch them.
I want to remember these small details of our Monday's. The simple things that punctuate our quiet beginnings of each week.
How lovely!
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