Mrs Garland’s gift. ‘Take everything with both hands and ask for more.’ Sometimes in life, a fortunate stroke of serendipity might allow us to encounter profound wisdom in a quite unexpected place, and moments like these only later reveal themselves as seed for hope. Such was my good fortune one sunny morning when I was... Continue Reading →
a few nights ago, whilst paging through a magazine, i read a letter by ‘struggling to trust’, penned in desperation to an agony aunt column, and she writes—this woman with an ancient question burning in her bones—that she had known a man for a long time, since they were not much more than children, and... Continue Reading →
summer’s light pulls me from my sleep earlier than i had hoped, but still i wake to silence in the house and quietly i rise, feet bare; limbs stretched out — a languid nod to the sun on the green of my mat and later, somewhere between midnight and now, i make breakfast and countless cups of hot assam tea. and as the hours slowly walk their way towards home, i teach a... Continue Reading →
'Did I ever tell you about the time I gave myself away to a broken man?' She asked me one icy afternoon when the skies over Glasgow were mourning the loss of Summer. The tea grew cold as I waited for her to return from where she had retreated to inside her head. I had... Continue Reading →
The marriage fractured after their little girl’s death. He needed a new house in which to start over. She could not leave the place where her daughter drew both her first, and last breaths. And on still days the old tyre swing would move to the peal of a child’s laugh. © Liezel Graham 2018.
She had come for a blood pressure check. Would I mind and did I have a moment inbetween patients and she really didn't want to waste my time? Her eyes avoiding mine until the tears that silently found their way down her cheeks, revealed that the real pressure was not in her arteries, but in... Continue Reading →
At home, Gabriel only ate the red M&M's. The other colours all terrified him. His exasperated mum wrote it off as 'just another of his autistic quirks.' He couldn't tell her that the angry lady with the piercing eyes, always ate the red ones during his ABA sessions; 'rewarding' him with the other colours when... Continue Reading →
Flora was a busybody. Nobody at the Garden Club could stand her. Nothing was ever to her standard. Frank had had enough of her griping about his fuchsias. Weeks after she disappeared, even the police were impressed with how they bloomed. 'Aye,' he said, 'new bonemeal.'.
"Right," He said, eyes roving over her with interest, "What can you bring to the marriage?" She looked at him as if he were the only man in the room; to her, he was the very oxygen she needed in order to survive, "I will love you with every fibre of my being. Until I... Continue Reading →