Welcome to the #dosomethingyummy Writing Prompt Link Up for Week 1 of our CLIC Sargent Do Something Yummy awareness campaign.
Your writing prompt for Week 1 was "What Your Children Mean To You" and you had a choice of three types of post:
- Personal post. Why did you have children? How have they changed your life?
- Yummy post. Do you have any experience of childhood cancer?
- Creative writing. Imagine your child can't be at home with you. You are missing them terribly. How do you feel?
So, what did you write? I chose the "Creative Writing" prompt as I thought it would be more of a challenge for me in the first week. You can read it by scrolling past the link widget below. If you have written a #dosomethingyummy post please link up below but don't worry if you haven't joined in yet - the linky will be staying open for the whole of February and March. If you are here to read the entries it would be great if you could share this post, or any of the ones linked up, on your social networks.
Missing Him.
I thought back
to only a few hours ago when he was packing his bag and announcing his
independence, determined to do everything his own way. He had taken clothes, books, even his teddy
from when he was a baby. He didn’t
want me to do anything for him because ‘he could do it all himself’.
I sat on his
bed, wondering what he was thinking right now.
I stood up and wandered around the unusually tidy floor space, hanging a
jacket over the end of the bed and straightening a picture. I picked a book up off the floor and stood it
on the book shelf, smoothed my imprint away from his bed sheets and tried to
remember how it all was before he grew up and wanted more freedom.
It was too
quiet in the house, even though it had been such a short time since he had
left. I was on edge, waiting for him to
come through the front door, needing me, demanding my attention, claiming he
was ‘starving’ and throwing himself haphazardly onto the settee, remote control
in hand.
I looked up
and realised that the room was starting to darken as time ticked on. I shivered and pulled my cardigan around shoulders. I moved
towards the window and pushed the curtain slightly to one side, peering out
into the garden.
I caught the
flicker of a torch from inside the tent that was pitched in the back
garden. I saw the shape of my boy and my
husband huddled in the middle of the canvas shell, heads almost touching. Father-and-son-time spent camping in the back
garden. I wondered who would cave in
first and demand to come back indoors.