singsongs the young voice.
hello I say
has mummy gone to bed?
past 7 o’clock I knew I was winging it
yes he tells me
ok well how is she?
she’s good, feeling much better.
that’s good I say
she did another yeti
so she had a neti and went to bed with Haydee
giggling over the line
as he got the yeti neti joke.
give her my love
ok, love you grandma
love you Kingston John.
a simple interaction
an easily forgettable moment.
the bedroom door is flung open
Haydee stands there head cocked on one side
all of 20 months
having a sleep over with her family.
the young kings sister is formidable
hello sweetheart we croon
in bed with our cups of tea and sardines on toast.
a summers dawn
a chatter of birds
a magpie melody
coming up then
hoisted up by grandad
and wobbly crawling plants herself in the middle.
uh uh hand pointing
I pass her a piece of toast
we sit the three of us
wonga pigeon wanders across the verandah.
she babbles away
rarely saying words we recognise
at home in her own language
at home in her own skin.
a tall lad blinky eyed appears in the doorway
startled to find his spot usurped by the little sister
we bunch over to make room
the toast is shared again.
this is a moment of loving connection
a gift for the soul
a treasure for the heart
a gem to wear in less savoury moments.
again a simple interaction
an event not worth mentioning.
the love that pulsates in the ethers
enveloping us within its force field
renewing connections of feel good neuron activity
this is the realm of Little Big
a yin yang thing.
if you have read the third policeman it is the point of the needle
if you haven’t it is the time between breaths
the space between smiles
part and parcel of the eternal Presence of Now.
a hardly anything moment
like so much of life
we can if we choose
and milk it for all it is worth.