broulee

Broulee! (the house on the coast built by my grandpa, on the headland of the beach bought by his dad for £5 a long time ago). Light wood furniture, some built by grandpa.  Small feet clipping up the stairs. A nest made in the top single-bed room (this is the ‘not noticing room’, griff and janu tell us!).  doors open. Tree top view from the verandah, birds grey on the branches. Two trays of mangos perfume the house.  Wind bustles leaves like feathers on a chicken’s bottom.

Soph, josh, maia and griff joined us at broulee.  It feels right to have the house brim full of people. A jumble of shoes reproduce on the verandah in odd pairs.  Shouts ring out, giggles from down below.  Mess, spilt milk and hugs.  We played games every night, and I haven’t laughed so much in ages.  Griff and janu disappear for hours (well, we can hear their voices). When I see him, I feel like a mum who hasn’t seen her little fella all day at school. ‘what have you been doing’? doesn’t feel enough – I’m used to living it all with him! It’s bliss too – not being the one to pretend to be dinosaurs.  Maia so wants to join in.  she slowly steals my heart.