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When these empty-nesters complain about missing their offspring once they have gone to university, I don’t think it is the eighteen-year-olds they miss. It is the children they once were.
Perhaps I should have gone against him. Bought him a budgie in a cage anyway so that he could see that it would be fine. Would be safe and protected. And that freedom was actually rather overrated.
The art of reading is to know and understand the things which go unsaid. There is as much to be learned from the spaces between, the empty lines, as
I should not have allowed myself to become distracted. You only need to take your eye off for one moment.
