Tomatoes, Pelicans and Ireland

I love to hear her voice. Perhaps not initially for I sometimes expect that I am disturbing her. And it is hesitant at first, croaky. When she warms up so do I. Sometimes I even joke with her a little. A tender being. Sensitive. Like me. We talked of her tomatoes. Greenhouse grown they are still green. They need sun. Don’t we all. Don’t we all.

He told us he is off to Ireland today. These brave beings setting out. She is to go to Devon. I long to be off and yet I am wary. Things won’t, aren’t the same. He travels alone like I used to. Off in his car. Freedom. A show of it. Family will take care of his mother for him.

The Pelican Bakery was shut today. I missed the smell of bread. It is there even when they are not. Not today. Not today.

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.