Time makes me greedy

Caro Giles tries to balance her fierce desire for independence with a longing to hold onto her daughters for as long as she can

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Lately I’ve been thinking about age and how our view of the world changes as the years roll by. I’m sitting next to a skate park in the city, surrounded by trees and pigeons. Blossom is appearing on branches, but by the time you read this it will only be remembered as petals trodden into the dirt.

Just over a year ago I fell in love with a man, and the early months of our love were punctuated by photos of blossom, kisses under blossom, poems about blossom. Next year there will be blossom once more, because nature is like that. Mostly, anyway. It is clinging to its own repetitive rhythm, despite humans doing all they can to interrupt it.

Today, the sky keeps opening and I cover my laptop to protect it from the rain. Moments later a sharp breeze blows the grey clouds away and leaves me with only blue. My two youngest daughters take turns to play on a skateboard and a second-hand scooter I picked up for four pounds. Glancing down at my phone, my extended family WhatsApp group informs me that one of my cousins’ daughters has just had a baby, the start of a new generation.