I give thanks for Mothers' Day breakfast in bed...can't remember what year it was brought to me but I'm still grateful! For bad dreams that were not real, and coming to terms with the good ones that weren't either... For the clock change so that a long lie in felt seemed even longer...
I give thanks for all my immediate neighbours being out at the same time so that I could go over a tricky passage with a few top Gs for choir practice tomorrow, which wouldn't have been fair if they'd been in given the thin walls and floors...and the number of dogs. And for watching the folk with big gardens at the back enjoying their washing lines and lawns, swings and slides, greenhouses and chicken runs. The children always look happy and safe and carefree there, and I give thanks for that too.
I'm grateful for making myself pancakes for brunch and feta, pepper and pesto pastries for my tea, for falling asleep in the Grand Prix and waking up to a very happy Lewis and a very accomplished Benedict...
It can be a bit of a sad day for some with memories of mothers and children, lost in various ways, and I'm grateful it's drawing to a close.
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