Those weeks we spent with the drawbridge pulled up.
While unknown dragons stalked nearby.
Will I remember these days filled with paints and glue and me and you?
With sand and water and adventure in four walls.
With dens and dungeons, battles and baddies.
With stories and songs and hours of TV.
With lessons entered gently. Am I doing this right?
With ice lollies and sunshine. With sweets and Mum-guilt.
With tumbles and bumps and squabbles and rows.
Your tantrums seem louder as they ring in my ears.
With mess and muddle. With FaceTime and fog.
With radio murmurings, daily briefings and noise.
With questions and quizzes and why can’t we go?
With walks to the playground now so faraway.
With days that stretched out as far as can be.
With arms that clutched closer your littleness to me.
With bedroom sleepovers, the topsy, the turvy,
The kettle on off,
The rain that battered windows and shrunk our world down.
The clapping, the waiting, the wondering when.
The listening, the missing, the needing, the fear.
The love and the nearness. The closeness, the depth.
The knowing that soon you will outgrow these games and outgrow my lap.
Sure enough, this will pass.
Longing to hold on, to dwell here and longing to leave.
Georgina is a mother of two small children and worker of two part-time charity jobs living life in lockdown in North Somerset. Finding sanctuary in words and play.