7:05 am<\/p>\n
Everything was white,<\/p>\n
I had a miscarriage,<\/p>\n
Everything was white,<\/p>\n
I had a miscarriage in my dream,<\/p>\n
Everything was white,<\/p>\n
But although it was only a dream it felt very real,<\/p>\n
Everything was white,<\/p>\n
I could feel the physical pain of the miscarriage,<\/p>\n
Everything was white,<\/p>\n
In some cultures white is the colour of death and mourning<\/p>\n
Driving out of Hebden Bridge on the steep of the Haworth Road,<\/p>\n
Woods give way to the high moorland,<\/p>\n
where you can see the whole of the Calder Valley fall below,<\/p>\n
Deep snow, lying in clumps between the bog grass,\u00a0the sun shinning, magnifying its white beauty,<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
I spot a bird of prey hunting, its easy to catch your dinner in the snow,<\/p>\n
The bird swoops and glides,<\/p>\n
My finger taps the window at the back of the car to indicate its position to Naoise,<\/p>\n
Where, where…….there, there, <\/em>he fails to find it<\/p>\n <\/p>\n We pass the cat rescue place, where both my cats were adopted,<\/p>\n They were sisters, and we named them Frida and Zelda,<\/p>\n Frida was cheeky and playful slightly smaller than her sister<\/p>\n Zelda was cool, a hunter, an exceptionally attractive supermodel cat with large killing paws and claws,<\/p>\n <\/p>\n I have been deliberating whether to get a new cat,<\/p>\n But it needs to be very young, preferably a kitten,<\/p>\n Its my replacement baby,<\/p>\n I want to mother a kitten,<\/p>\n <\/p>\n We search the charity shops of Skipton for unknown treasures,<\/p>\n Naoise finds a stash of old film cameras and spends a long time sat on the carpet of the shop exploring their functionality,<\/p>\n We eventually separate him from the cameras and look elsewhere,<\/p>\n I am trying to find a tea pot, but the search has eluded me for over a year,<\/p>\n <\/p>\n In the department store, after spraying perfume on wrists and exploring seventy percent blue cross clothes items,<\/p>\n We look at white polite teapots,<\/p>\n I refuse to buy these blank canvases of domestic boredom,<\/p>\n A teapot has to at least command the attention of a table with a pattern, an emblem, a colour, something,<\/p>\n <\/p>\n The sunset on the way home is glorious, its getting lighter in the evenings, not dark till five now,<\/p>\n The moon is almost full in the sky,<\/p>\n Patrick makes mushroom risotto, Naoise refuses to eat a thing, overtired perhaps,<\/p>\n We watch a film, slump on the sofa, drink red wine.<\/p>\n The oven buzzer sounds, thirty minutes have past……<\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":" 7:05 am Everything was white, I had a miscarriage, Everything was white, I had a miscarriage in my dream, Everything was white, But although it was only a dream it felt very real, Everything was white, I could feel the physical pain of the miscarriage, Everything was white, In some cultures white is the colour … Continue reading White<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":743,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-738","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/738"}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=738"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/738\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/743"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=738"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=738"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/helensargeant.co.uk\/mother-stories\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=738"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}
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