Tell It To The Birds
Astra Bloom
He says
The garden is beautiful, isn’t it?
As if it has been dropped down for him, for us, by God during this Lockdown time. And what a surprise, how lucky we are.
He never says
And everything in it was planted by you. You made this beautiful garden over fifteen years with limited strength and health and no help whatsoever from me because I hate gardening, it bores me silly, I like sunbathing.
He says
How is it sleeping in this room? (I have moved into our daughter’s old room but still he bursts in without knocking.)
I say
It’s not restful, it’s like a cupboard, a*****e room, but I’ll sort things out and paint the walls green once I’ve finished writing this book.
He walks out of the room as I say the word green and now I like the colour even more
