I’ve not been up to much, writing wise, except for working with the lovely Ineke Poultney who has been giving me prompts for five minutes of writing. Today’s inspired a memory, which I’d like to share.
By going home she was actually leaving the place where she felt most at home. The few hours she had spent in that dark little bedsit room had been the hours when she had felt safest, the most loved. Her home, a flat close by her work, had been her refuge, until she had found herself at his side. He had nothing. Right there in that room, together, they needed nothing. All the pieces that had been broken were suddenly restored and a sense of peace had overtaken her heart and mind.
As she drove away from him, leaving him smoking a cigarette at the kerb, the lightness left her. This was where she needed to be, but it was not where she was most needed. She had to bite down and go and get the work done. People needed her help, so she had to bury the sense of sadness that threatened to overwhelm her.