I started writing about the sun, stars and planets, till one of my favourites, Pluto, lost its right to be called a planet. It was as if a child had suddenly been cast out of the family.
Spring cleaning, I discover my jar of glass marbles, each a different colour and pattern, wrapped within thick layers of bubble wrap. I remember my favourite was a clear white one, which I would spend hours holding against the sun, studying the pattern – a wave, mid-crash, frozen inside a drop of glass.
Over the years amongst other things, I lost it and convinced myself that it did not matter, but that jar of marbles is still here. Will my son like to hold and play with them, revel in their perfection and fragility? Will he like to name them after planets and moons, someday? There are so many more of them to choose from now.
his tiny fingers dream