Bubblegum

The crocuses bloom year after year. They keep coming back, pushing their way through the dead leaves. You can't keep us down they say. 

You can't keep me down for long either, but at the moment my emotions are being stretched to breaking point. I'm tired and I feel like there's always something going on that's keeping me from smiling.

Remember Anglo Bubbly bubblegum? It tasted pink. It was hard to begin with but as you worked it with your aching jaw it relaxed. You could blow large airy bubbles. As you blew gently the bubble would become bigger and the gum thinner. The bubble would teeter on the brink of bursting. You would hold your hands out ready to catch it, you didn't want it in your hair. A tiny final puff of air would make the gum see-through, then it would tear apart into wisps - fine pink wisps.

Each time Presley cries and asks me to take away his horrendous chicken pox blisters I can feel the fine threads that are holding my emotions in check stretch into fragile wisps. 

Each time I speak to my Mum in Christchurch or watch the news about the aftermath of the earthquake more emotions fill my bubblegum head.

Each time I try to speak about the inspirational Born To Write event at Save the Children I have to stop, just to keep the gum from tearing. I will write about this amazing day. First I need time to suck a little air out of the bubble, just enough so I can lower my hands.

Bubblegum