it’s the little things

She’s up just after 6.15 in order to catch an early train to Chester; last minute retail bonding with one sister before we head off to Australia to see another sister.

It’s all a bit of a rush and when I return from taking her to the station, I find her discarded slippers on the bedroom floor.

I’m quite happy having the day to myself; papers to read, guitars to play, cameras to use and bikes to fettle.  

It’s not the quiet though - it’s the little things like these slippers that tell me she’s not here.