Sonogram

Dear Heart,
Sat on the stairs with my mother and filled her head with truths she had forgotten. She looked so young and beautiful and small. I reached across the oceans that seemed to separate us and placed a hand on her knee, hoping to steady her somewhat. We'll get there.
This afternoon Gloria visited and her eyes filled up when I told her about university and Christians and the emptiness of things. She used to frighten the life out of me as a child; I've always associated her with scruffy black dogs and the splintering blue rope that held up the camp tents. But I see her differently now. She is one of the few people from Before that we still see, one of the few that hasn't forgotten us.
She said that I was being prepared for something. She fixed me with her all-seeing blue eyes and said that God had something special for me. I'm not sure if I believe in Him anymore, but it was nice to hear all the same. It makes the sadness seem easier to bear.
We spent the evening baking for tomorrow's Jubilee celebrations. Confetti cake is a huge success with Gideon, though Mamma Mia and Chloe teased me incessantly about the allegedly high levels of cholesterol. I held sweating eggs in my hands and sifted flour through my fingers, luxuriating in the beginnings of it all. Pre-formed, nearly there, sonogram cake. There's a poem in there somewhere... Flour, eggs and water.
Love, Lydia x