Flowers and Stones

“I hate moving! I want something to do!”

“You could help me sort out this stuff.” I can but try.

“No, I want to play!”

“Your toys are all packed up love, I did ask if you wanted any kept out.”

My daughter stomped off only to return twenty minutes later with a checker board.

“I can’t find the pieces, Mum.”

“Makes it a bit hard to play then.” I was starting to wonder if a break might be in order shortly, while hoping I wouldn’t have to go and find the rest of the game. “No,” I thought, “best to keep at things now that I have started.”

Alone, now I could sort through the items I was packing. A trophy, a stubby golf club on a bit of wood. Andrew's name on it. I remembered just how proud he was when he brought it home. I put it in with all the other memorabilia.

A silly little squashed hedgehog ornament given by Andrew's sister after we found a hedgehog snuffling round the tire of the car. She’s dead now too. In heaven, with Andrew. Where I should be. The hedgehog goes into the box too.

Andrew's degree in its frame at the back of the cabinet. I realised that I had not managed to get rid of a single item. I wondered where everything was going to fit in our new house.

I looked up from my melancholy and wondered where my daughter was.

I finally found my daughter outside playing checkers by herself. One of the daisies had just taken a pebble. I sat down to move a stone. The packing could wait.





**Word count: 276**