Welcome to my Take Seven compilation which incorporates all 21 words (or derivatives) from the Three Things Challenge for the past week.
You are most welcome to join in using as many or all of the words too. Just pingback to this post and then leave a link to your post in the comments so that I can see it and respond directly.
As always, have fun, and I hope you enjoy this week’s piece, which is a work of fiction.
It’s your birthday today.
I remember the day you were born, the miracle of life, a scrap of humanity with a pair of lungs that announced your arrival and displeasure at being forced out into a cold world.
When you were a tiny babe, I’d bounce you on my knee, and can still hear you giggling, that tinkling sound only babies have.
I would bury my face in your softness, breathe in your smell and blow raspberries on your skin, making you laugh all the more.
There’s not a lot of difference in our ages, thirteen years, and that was the trouble really. Not the done thing in those days. Mums became Aunts or sisters to save face, but my love for you never changed.
No-one knew how hard it was to let you go, even harder as it was to family, and I would see you often. My penance I suppose. I could watch and smile from the sidelines, but was never allowed to get ‘too close’.
I remember once you called me your dotty aunt, when you meant doting, or I like to think you did. I know I am a bit of an acquired taste, but my heart was always full for you.
I often wondered as you got older if you’d guessed actually. There were likenesses that couldn’t be denied, but maybe only I noticed them. I’d catch you looking at me sometimes, deep in thought but not troubled. If you know, let me say you were the highlight and most precious thing of my life.
I just wish I was able to tell you that.