This week’s words: Poplar Tree Brusque Traipse Rigorous Shaken Pump Downtrodden Starvation Cuddle Spittle Hardwired Forever
“I missed you and your cuddles,” she said as we sat under the Poplar Tree. She’d been away six weeks, and it had felt at times like it would take forever for the days to pass before she returned.
As a child growing up, I had been hardwired to accept what I had no control over, and as a result, my behaviours were at times brusque. I was sorry I had been that way when she had taken her leave and flown off into the north.
Her time away had found her traipsing around the tourist sites in far off countries leaving me to traipse around the all too familiar settings in my own small world.
Her journey had been rigorous at times, and she was shaken the day her plane experienced some serious turbulence coming in to land at Heathrow. Thankfully I heard about this after the event which left me shaken fearing for her safety.
We’d come to the park with the Poplar Trees and sitting arm in arm we looked across the valley to where the pump station worked away keeping the farm community supplied with all it needed to keep starvation away from us all.
She was so excited to tell me of her travels, of her observations of the downtrodden who seemed to inhabit most of the major cities she visited that small rivulets of spittle would ooze from the corners of her mouth as she worked overtime to get every story out in as much detail as she could muster.
“I’m glad I’m back, I’m glad you remember me,” she said, cuddling closer.