WOE: To the Moon

He had been so proud of her that first day, watching her pick out the perfect outfit and making up a packed lunch for her, hearing the shake of nerves in her voice and sending a text message at lunchtime just to make sure all was well.  He was the one who believed all along that she could do the job, who encouraged her to apply, who told her to reach to the moon.

He remembered those first few months when she would hurry home and they’d cook some dinner and spend the evening together.  He loved those moments, something precious to look forward to at the end of his own long day.

Then she started spending time with her colleagues, coming home later, not eating with him.  For a while he had been glad that she had friends, something and someone outside of the narrow confines of home but it had become a niggle.  He still wasn’t sure how he felt exactly, maybe there were words that he wasn’t prepared to admit to, things like ‘lonely’ and ‘abandoned’, maybe even jealous.  He hadn’t been jealous; he knew that.  But now?  He mentally pieced together the jigsaw and realised how her attitude had changed completely.  It wasn’t just how much time that she was spending outside the house but how she was so eager to leave, how she didn’t seem interested in what he had done that day or how he felt.  Then there was the whole thing with her mobile.  He wasn’t allowed near it, snapped at for passing it over when it sounded, suspected of always looking over her shoulder when she texted.  She’d withdraw and take a call, reply to a text message.  He was hurt, he admitted.  But not jealous, she had promised him that it was only work friends.  He had to believe in her still.  Thinking otherwise would itself be a betrayal.

There was no telling anymore what time she’d come home but he always made dinner ready, hoping.  He missed the evenings that they used to spend together, chatting or watching something on the television.  He missed her.  Something had changed in her but he didn’t know what, not yet.

She had told him that she needed space.  Space for what?  Bemused, he’d agreed all the same, letting her go and do her own thing with people he’d never even got to meet.  At the weekends when they had always planned to something particular together, they used to have so many shared interests, she was always going out now with these friends, leaving him behind.

It was nearly time, the earliest that he could expect her.  He sighed, feeling heavy in his heart, unformed and unbidden questions rising for which there were no answers.

He wheeled himself up to the window where he could see the road, see her coming.  He would ask her how her day had been but expect no conversation.  Whenever she did come home.

~

I haven’t written any fiction for so long, you’ve got to have the right ‘head’ on but this story has been whirling through my cobwebs lately and this week’s Red Writing Hood prompt gave me the encouragement to share, all I had to do was fit in the phrase ‘to the moon’ and aim for 500 words.  495, I must be getting better at this word count business!

Apologies to my subscribers for another double dose today!

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And It All Ends in Tears

 

I feel so guilty that I’ve struggled to write this update, it feels as if I’m admitting my criminal irresponsibility and negligence to the world.  And you know where to find me.  Did you know that it is a criminal offence to release either a hand reared or a casualty animal when it doesn’t have as equal a chance as it’s (naturally raised, non intervened) peers?  Puts quite an edge on it.

We checked the weather forecast before starting our release, rain but that’s nothing new in this country, and we had to balance it with the itching need of these fledglings to get out.  We’d had to shut the curtains to stop them crashing into the glass and they kept bonking their heads on the ceiling.  It was definitely their time for more space.  Rain is not unusual and even more unfortunately, it’s unlikely to go away completely.  That’s real freak weather conditions otherwise.  Besides, the door would remain open and food provided.  They could always shelter here too.  That’s more than other fledglings would have.

That’s what we told ourselves.  Maybe we were irresponsible, maybe we were inexperienced, maybe we were impatient, maybe we were stupid.  I don’t know.  Do birdy parents check the forecast before allowing their babies out of the nest?

Hindsight is a great thing to torture yourself with.

Wednesday evening we had all four back in then one went back out.  He didn’t come home to roost at bedtime so we had to hope that he had found a safe roost elsewhere.  It was dry at the time too.  And really, that’s kind of what you want them to do.

Thursday morning was still dry, overcast with a threat of rain.  The forecast said rain again.  I tell myself now that I should have read through the news, maybe there would have been an article about the weather already hitting the furthest point of the peninsula, two counties south.  I don’t know.  I tell myself that I should have done something different.  I tell myself that I should have kept the door shut that morning and not have let the other three fly free like they did.

The storm came in like I don’t what.  It was the kind of storm that would have taken you by surprise in October.  Three months on when the fledglings would have been bigger and stronger, more savvy too.  I can’t remember one like it.  Especially not in June.

To give you an idea of how bad it was and to torture myself a little more over my negligence, we have an enclosed balcony which keeps fairly dry.  To have the rain splash the bedroom window three feet inside, the wind has to be coming from a certain angle and be pretty hard.  It doesn’t happen much.  Yesterday the rain was lashing against the window and the balcony floor was awash.

We kept the door open, the rain driving into the sitting room, hoping against hope.

Maybe they found somewhere to roost.

But now the biggest threat to our babies is exposure.

I feel so terribly.  I took my eye off the ball, I lost focus.  I should have checked the news or the forecast better.  I should have done something, done something differently, anything.  Because it is my responsibility.

I failed our babies.