Shame

In the weekend I had a moment where I realised that part of my life had come full circle. Me and Bennett went on the bus to town, while waiting for the bus to arrive five boys from Bennett's class came to wait for the bus also. As soon as Bennett saw them he got up and walked away from me, and then for the rest of the bus trip and for part of the walk through town(they happened to get off at the same stop) Bennett wouldn't to talk to me or even look at me - Oh the terrible shame it is to be seen in public with your mother when you are a 12 year old boy! Being the annoying mother I am, I questioned him about it after they had gone
"Were you ashamed to be seen with me?"
"Yes" he said with a smile
"Why?" I asked (not really sure why I questioned him on this, as I do quite clearly still recall the shame of being in public with my mum and her loud, booming voice calling me Lovey while in town)
"Well at least if I was in town with Grandma she would look like she could be my mum" was his cutting reply.
I do not actually mind that he finds it shameful to be out in public with me. It feels like a parental right of passage or something, plus shows that he is becoming independent. It is some what sad though that the reason I am an embarrassment to be seen in public with is, and I quote, I am "too short"

The first story i wrote for the blog

The colour purple was the brightest of all the colours on the washing line that day. It flashed and flittered as it danced delicately on the breeze. Edna looked at the purple, she didn’t remember buying that dress; but that seemed to be a common feeling these days, forgetting things. The purple dress looked so much happier than all the other clothes on the line, the browns, tans, greys and beiges that also moved in the breeze looked like they were being pushed or bullied by the breeze; but not the purple it danced and celebrated, its creases looking like laugh lines stretched wide across a delighted face. Edna didn’t feel like the purple dress. It had been a long time since she had danced. It had been a long time since she had felt happy, free and full of abandon. She wondered if when she had worn that dress she had flowed and flittered the way the dress did on the line. Edna sat on the deck chair that was on its last legs. It creaked and groaned under her weight; even though her tiny frame did not deserve such a complaint. She ran her wrinkled, bent fingers over the edge of the chair, as if to soothe or massage its weary frame. There had been a time when this old chair had had other members, all of them the same; blue and green stripped canvas on shining metal. Now it was the only one, the last of the family. It no longer had bright colours or a shining frame, rust was eating away at the edges and tears and holes were appearing in the now dull, pallid colours. One day this chair too would have its day. The canvas would rip beyond repair, leaving nothing but a useless skeleton, a sad reminder of what used to be. Edna glanced up, clouds were starting to appear; big black, ominous clouds. Time to get that purple dress off the line and put it away.

First thought

I have decided to write a story a day, it is a way to not only be creative but I find it helps keep the madness away. So like the apple a day idea, it is a story a day to keep the madness away. I wrote my first story last night about a old lady called Edna. I will post it later today as it is on my laptop and I have not connected my laptop to the school server yet...