The Best Laid Plans

There was no editing in the sunshine this morning. No Nespresso sipped quietly while inspiration circled and swooped down like the seagulls that fly past my balcony. Every plan I had for the day – editing, cake, lunch with S. – went out the window with those three little words: Mummy, it hurts. 

Once those words are uttered nothing matters. Not my book, not my weekend, nothing. Nothing except finding out where it hurts and what I can do to make it better. Instead of a writing day, it’s been a reading day. Reading out loud, telling stories, fetching ice cream and tea and soup (not all at once, of course) and all those other things that soothe a flaming throat and a little body burning up with fever. Plus disinfecting my hands a lot and trying to not to breathe in while too close to him.

Sitting here now, alert to every single noise coming from the bedroom, in much the same way I used to wake up in the night and stand over his crib to check he was still breathing, I can hear a violin. Someone in the building is scratching out a tune, a haunting collection of notes utterly befitting the dark night outside.

Last time I was at the library I picked up a few John Grishams. At least people have stopped drinking while driving in his books (that always really annoyed me) but I’ve still yet to find an adult character who has a good relationship with their mother. I’m trying out Camino Island and right now I’m reading about a bookshop. A bookshop with a café will always be one of my secret dreams. He describes in such a way here that I just want to rush out and get my own.

Hopefully tomorrow my little man will be feeling better and maybe I can edit a few chapters. For now I’ll just sit here reading, listening to the haunting violin, dreaming about a bookshop.

Author: Eva O'Reilly

Writer, avid reader, large dog lover, cake baker and Francophile. Living in hope of finding either a literary agent or a large audience on Amazon.

9 thoughts on “The Best Laid Plans

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