Author: Veronica Foale

  • Headfuck

    Sitting curled up in the chair with hot chocolate and a book, I am content. The music flicks over to a new song and suddenly, my breath comes ragged and I am broken.

    That song, it takes me back to Nan’s funeral, train wreck that it was. The car breaking down, the bitter silence from my uncle and his family when I entered the funeral home, strung out, stressed and grieving. The same kick in the guts, remembering the music playing while a casket sat in front of us.

    I remember my son sitting on my lap while silent tears ran down my face.

    I remember the wake afterwards, half of our broken family icily angry with me, with us.

    I remember and even when I try not to, small things bring it back in detail, taking my breath away.

    At almost eleven months later, this doesn’t feel like it’s gotten any easier.

    And I still can’t cry.

  • Welcome to the InterWebs Part 2

    Part One Here

    ***

    She wandered out into the InterWebs; the group that she had arrived with disappearing rather fast. She hadn’t expected it and looked up sharply when she found she was alone – well, as alone as a woman could be in the middle of millions of other people.

    Walking out into the crowds, she was swept along unnoticed.

    Previously, the woman had been small and mousey. The addition of a slightly fabricated About Page had cheered her up and her eyes looked brighter too. Back in Reality, her real self was stuck picking up after children and washing dirty clothes, but here, in the InterWebs, she was free to wander.

    ‘A Mummyblogger’ she sighed in disgust. ‘I’ve heard such horrid things about Mummybloggers. I don’t want to be one of those.’ She thought about it some more. ‘Maybe I could be a MummyBlogger though. I have read some good ones and they do seem to have such good fun.’

    The possiblity of having good fun seemed like a better option than worrying about what nameless people thought of a label stuck to her in any case.

    Signs around her pointed the way and she walked forwards, hoping that she was heading towards the Mummybloggers.

    Welcome to the InterWebs!! one sign screeched at her; the garish red and yellow lettering hurting her eyes.

    In every direction animated looking people shuffled about in groups. She wasn’t sure where she was going, but here didn’t look quite right. The more out of her depth she felt, the more Reality appealed to her. Reality wasn’t scary and bright like this place. The trees had more colour and she wondered why, until her mind clicked – photoshopping. Right.

    As she moved through the crowds, they parted like water to let her through and seamlessly closed up behind her. When she hazarded a glance back the way she’d came, she could see that her passing had had no effect on her fellow InterWebbians.

    She sighed, and as she grew dejected she lost some of her sparkle. Her About Page grew tarnished and she shrunk down into herself, confidence fading. Up ahead there was a park bench in the middle of the mayhem. There was just enough room for her to sit down if she could just ….

    ‘Excuse me, excuse me, sir, please, if I could just get through….’

    She pushed her way through and sat down with a flomp.

    Opening her laptop case, she read through her About Page again, trying to remind herself why she was here.

    Mother of two … likes reading and writing …. photography makes me happy …

    She wasn’t impressed. Her moments of self doubt had tarnished the bloody thing to high heaven. She sat down to rework it and slowly, she gained her zazzle and confidence back. The tarnish pushed away for now, she looked around and oh! A bubbly blonde woman stood in front of her, talking loudly in a vaguely Southern twang.

    ‘Hi! How are you? You look new here, is there anything we can do to help, would you like a cup of tea, a biscuit, a sit down, we’ve got a very nice spot over under the tree there and you’re more than welcome to join us?’

    She spoke very fast and the previously mousey woman wasn’t sure she’d caught everything.

    ‘Hello.’

    She looked at the bright bubbly woman in front of her and held out her hand.

    ‘I’m Anna and yes, I’m new here.’

    The bubbly woman, who hadn’t stood still for a second yet looked at her outstretched hand and laughed.

    ‘Oh aren’t you just adorable! We don’t shake hands here honey, we give hugs, here come and get a hug!’

    Bending, she hugged Anna until her ribs felt near to bursting.

    ‘Come on, come over and sit with us. We’ll talk you through everything and you can have a biscuit and a nice cup of tea. Would you like me to carry anything? Come now, watch him, don’t trip over, he’s a tech blogger and they don’t like to be interrupted, never mind her, she’s not sure what she’s here for and him, we’ll he’s nice enough, although you haven’t heard the rumours yet have you? Never mind, come along.’

    Anna felt like she was drowning in a sea of words and she clung to her hand as they marched across the open space to where a group of women sat around with laptops. The noise as she reached them was overwhelming, but she resolved to enjoy herself. After all, she didn’t have to stay, did she.

    Her guide dragged her forwards and stood her in front of the group.

    ‘Girls! Girls! I’ve found a new one!’

    ‘Oh fantastic’ ‘I wonder where she came from’ ‘I hope she’ll like me’ ‘A new one, yay!’ ‘Oh no, another one, really? Don’t you think we have enough?’

    The voices murmured around her and she stood and smiled, hoping that her faked confidence wasn’t having any effect on her newly edited About Page.

    Slowly a spot cleared for her and hands reached out, helping to settle her into her spot.

    ‘I hope she’s comfortable’ ‘She looks nice’ ‘I wish I’d found her’ the murmuring continued.

    ‘Girls! For goodness sakes, give her a moment to collect a thought!’

    The women moved back slightly and Anna breathed deeply as someone pressed a cup of tea into her hand. She took a sip and then exhaled.

    ‘Oh this is lovely.’

    For all the pressing in and the noise, she found the company excellent. Much better than the jaded tour guide in the beginning . All these women wanting to know her. The community. That was the word. Even though it felt a little restrictive, she thought she could be happy here.

    She looked around and her eyes had gained some brightness.

    ‘Hello and thank you for the lovely welcome. My name is Anna and I’m going to be a Mummyblogger!’

    The voices bubbled around her and the women, they swept her in and held her in their depths, congratulating her on her choice.

    In the back of her mind though, she wasn’t sure that she was going to fit in here. But that small part of her brain was slowly being squashed by the nature of the InterWebs and the women surrounding her. The candy sweetness and the joyful light surrounding everyone, that was addictive.

    As she looked over her checklist, a shy woman held out her hand.

    ‘Welcome Anna. Welcome to the InterWebs.’

    She didn’t hear the sinister undertone as all the women repeated it. She was just happy to be here.

    ***

    Part Three Here

  • A journey

    Grief is a journey they tell me. With stages and progression. You walk the path and tread the steps of thousands of people before you and you come to accept that this is the way things are.

    That is what they tell me.

    What they don’t tell me is how some days, there is no forward progress. Some days, all you can do is plant your feet, lean into the wind and refuse to move backward. Some days, waves break over you until you can’t breathe.

    That is what they don’t tell you.

    Time heals everything they say.

    I don’t doubt that it does.

    I am certain that time will take away my hurt, my pain. It will fill the wound left behind by death.

    Time will cover the hole left behind, until a scar is left.

    But,

    I doubt,

    that time will heal the missing.

    Scars will form and the pain will lessen.

    But, I don’t think the missing will go away.

    Because even as it would be nice to not feel the longing and the wanting,

    as long as I still miss her it proves that she was here.

    Once.

  • More than a mother

    My son stands up and starts to walk.

    But he’s the baby I think. Who gave him permission to grow up?

    He stands, laughing and clapping and walks the length of the room to get to me. I scoop him up and spin him in a circle, before he bites my shoulder and gets put down with a thunk.

    He laughs again and stands, walking towards the other side of the house.

    Wow. That time flew.

    I swear, I only gave birth to him a moment ago. Not that long, surely?

    ***

    They are screaming and I am stressed. Grabbing my camera, I escape the noise. Heading outside, I leave them to their father and disappear to reclaim my sanity from the other side of a macro lens.

    I find bugs and flowers and then I return, wind chilled and flushed red – but happier. Always happier.

    I adore my children with every ounce of my soul, but I scream to be more than a mother.

    I want to be a photographer, a writer, an author, a blogger.

    But my children are young and they’ll only be this small for a short amount of time.

    I put aside my own wants and needs and make time for them, to roll around on the floor and nibble toes and elbows.

    However, for 20 minutes a day, when I am in front of my computer immersed in words, or outside taking photos,

    I am more than a mother.

    And that makes me happy.

    Pretty in pink.

  • Not here

    I have words and stories, but my hands are refusing to co-operate and since I’ve not yet learned how to magically publish my words straight from my brain, we’re going to have to wait until my fingers get better again.

    Until then, I’m dreaming words and frequently getting frustrated at my lack of time for writing.