Skip to main content

A Story for my Bodie

In the endless magic of the universe, the nebula was a lake of blue mist with clouds of gold rising above it. Dots of white sparkled and shimmered.

Cradled and nurtured inside the nebula, the little spirit was azure in colour. It was being born into being. It was being sung to by the stars, and magic and energy hummed and danced through the colours. The little spirit was growing closer to its birth.

Then one day, the stars sang extra loud, the nebula of blue lake and gold clouds brightened, and all the white dots pulsed eagerly.

A new figure appeared through the stars, running easily towards the nebula. It was dark-blue and dog-shaped. It had pointy, triangular ears and its tail was a little apostrophe, and its big heart cast a silver sheen all around it.

It greeted the little spirit with flat ears, a bobbing tail and quiet joy. “I have come from where you are going. I’m your guardian spirit and I will guide you to your new home, and I will watch over you.”

In the magic of the blue and gold nebula, the little spirit held out its hand in joy, and the dark-blue, dog-shaped spirit sat down next to it in a familiar gesture of loving protection, confidence and vigilance. Just like it used to do with its humans - and the little spirit’s future parents.



For Bodie. Keep watching over us. We love you. We miss you.





Comments

Popular posts from this blog

The Sun and the Moon

The following little story came to me while driving home one night on a dark road lit up in silver by a half-moon.  I suddenly had a fanciful little image of a car smilingly gobbling up a crescent-shaped sliver of moon-flake which helped its headlights shine brighter.  Such an image wouldn't normally find a home outside my head, but

Making Mauritius-Style Banana Cakes (Gateaux Bananes)

I mis-managed my bananas. I got my timing all wrong and they were suddenly too ripe and too spotted and dotted to eat, and were sitting there looking at me with accusatory and reproachful looks. Banana cake was the obvious solution. But why go the way of regular banana cake, when there's the distant call of Mauritius-style gateaux bananes (you guessed it: banana cakes). 

Reflections on Home

Over on Twitter, I'm playing along to a daily March indie-writer celebration, called #MarchOfTheWriters, initiated by the very awesome JD Estrada . The Day 7 prompt was #HomeIs So. I'm a migrant. I'm a member of a diaspora (probably more than one). If anyone asks, I claim a formal hyphenated identity that includes three places and two hyphens. Roots and routes have been a feature of my life journey, and of the stories I tell about myself. All these things have been part of the reason I wrote a doctoral thesis over an excrutiatingly long period of time (and the doctorate is also the reason I've developed an overly complicated relationship to writing, but that's another post for another time). In short, I've thought about the idea of 'Home' a lot. I was born in Country A. I left there as a toddler and haven't been back, though I still claim citizenship there. It's not home, but it's my father's home, and my parents' stories come t...