The Bim and I met eight years ago today. It may be a little tarnished, but the story is still a good one.
All day it niggles away at me. What's wrong with me? What's wrong with me? I ask. My heart is heavy, my thoughts are sad. And then, blinking back tears at traffic lights on my way to pick up Anna-mouse from school, I remember.
The Bim sends me a text: 8 yr ago 2day. If I knew then what I know now, I'd still go 2 that bus stop.
Would I still go? I ask myself.
I listen to his good-humoured ramblings as he stays for a cup of tea while Anna-mouse and I eat supper. Later, after he has gone, I gather her pyjama-ed body up to mine for a last cuddle before bed. Would I?
Yes. Yes, I would.