Poem for the day

I wrote this ages ago for lnc:

There is a dance, a slow and careful dance,
That starts with love and trust and some romance
And ends with spinning wildly round the room
I dance with her, who dwelt within my womb

There is a song, a high and piercing song
That starts with love and trust and holding strong
And ends with singing gladly in the light
I sing with her, who woke me in the night

There is a prayer, a short and fervent prayer
That starts with love and trust and gasps of air
And ends with thanks and staring at each other
I pray with her, who made of me a mother.

Also, today I phoned my mother to wish her a happy Mother's Day - a greeting she returned, as we do for our birthday - and I told her in detail why I think she did a good job of mothering me and how.

Interfering old biddy

Me again, I'm afraid.

We went to the supermarket yesterday (urgh) and bought fooooood. On the way in, through the car park, we saw two different cars, one parked in the shade, and one parked in the sun (that one had an open window). Both cars contained two screaming children, each, and no adults.

Linnea and Rob waited outside with the trike, because she wasn't interested in being well-behaved in a supermarket, and Emer and I went in. So I told the security guard inside, and he went out. I don't think he did anything but he may have watched to see whether the children had adults coming out from the shop. Rob said what he saw for each car was an adult coming out of the supermarket with shopping, getting into the car, and driving off - I couldn't see the cars from inside the supermarket so I didn't know until I'd gone back out to Rob.

So everyone was fine, but that sort of thing gives me the willies. I do feel like an interfering old bag, but I may never recover from the night I spent sitting up wondering what I'd tell those boys' mother because I didn't go out to them in the car before the man drove them away (they were found safe later on; he'd dumped them at their grandmother's address).