Monochrome contentment or technicolor roller-coaster? No contest, is it?
Catherine SandersonStichwörter: playing-it-safe security-or-passion
When tadpole was born, I spent a sleepless night on the maternity ward gazing intently into her inky, newborn eyes, grappling to come to terms with the indisputable fact that this was an actual person looking back at me, not just a version of Mr Frog, or me, or both, in miniature. From the outset she seemed to know what she wanted, and I realised I could have no inkling of the paths she would choose to follow. But if I watch her life unfold carefully enough, perhaps I will see clear signposts pointing to who or what she will become.
Because when I look backwards, ransacking my own past for clues with the clarity that only hindsight can bring, several defining moments do stand out. Moments charged with significance; snapshots of myself which, if I were to join the dots together, lead me unswervingly to where I stand today.
Stichwörter: motherhood
One unforeseen advantage of having a child was that it gave me the excuse to talk to myself to my heart's content and pretend it was for my daughters benefit.
Catherine SandersonStichwörter: motherhood
Music from my iPod was setting my life to a dramatic soundtrack that only I could hear.
Catherine SandersonI couldn't remember the last time I'd felt so wrapped up in someone that I saw only him, caring not a jot what onlookers might think. I ached with nostalgia for a younger, more responsive me, who seemed to feel things more intensely.
Catherine SandersonStichwörter: nostalgia teenage-passion
Any new French female acquaintance would most likely have held herself aloof, eyeing you suspiciously until she had assessed your character and whether or not you posed a threat.
Catherine SandersonI want to build you a house with my bare hands and carry you over the threshold. I want too cook for you every evening and bring you tea in bed in the mornings. I want to read with you in front of an open fire, sipping a glass of wine. I want to drive you to the beach and lie next to you in the sun. I may not be a man of means, bit I want to take care of you as best I can.
Catherine SandersonLove' was a word I had cheapened with overuse over the years, bleeding it dry of meaning by saying it purely from force of habit, or to convince myself of something of which I was far from sure. I wanted to wait until the words started to feel meaningful again before I used them.
Catherine SandersonStichwörter: love
I tumbled into the taxi alone, closing the door closed with a dull thud before I could possibly change my mind. Not like this, I remember thinking. Whatever this thing is between us, it could only be tainted and cheapened by a semi-drunken encounter on the night of our first meeting. As the car pulled away I stared back at him. The thought that I might never see him again, that I might never know what it would feel like to be kissed by him, seemed unbearably cruel.
At a crossroads, I had been faced with a choice: two possible versions of my future mapped out ahead of me. But I didn't feel like I had made any sort of decision. All I had done was run away.
Stichwörter: passion lust crossroads
Life has a habit of making the easy desperately difficult, and the hardest choices so easy as to be no choice at all.
Catherine SandersonStichwörter: choices
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