no sanctuary in empty words

I’ve just spent a couple of days at the beach house. It instantly comes to mind when I see the word sanctuary. In reality though, we carry our sanctuary around inside our own heads, don’t we.

It seems like, almost every day this month, there’s been bad news story after horrifying news story. I went to the beach to clear my head but why should I be able to escape hearing about the pain, and fear in the world that others are living?

Last night in Australia the news was all about our appalling juvenile justice system, and, warning the vision is disturbing. Prior to that, on four separate news breaks throughout the day I heard the Health Minister apologising for the tragic error that caused the death of a newborn boy – nitrous oxide instead of oxygen pumped into the little fella. I felt like throwing up, not just at the story, but the ineffective ‘apology’.

Where is their sanctuary? This mother…and those young boys.

Sanctuary|The Daily Post

 

the boy on the couch

In response to the daily prompt – a moment in time

In the interest of anonymity I can’t show you the photo.

Tonight the boy from Back Bay came around.

His father lived here a million years ago. I can’t remember how that came about but it was back in the day before I’d even left school I think. He wasn’t exactly a model flatmate but he charmed the others, and so his lack of cleaning skills went overlooked. Tales of the notes he left around are on annual rotation, and yes, I shared them with his son. A dead mouse in the hallway had a note next to it ‘a present from puss’; the exploded coke can in the freezer – ‘wow’.

So now the next generation is criss crossing the globe in search of…what?
Charming? yes
A bit aimless? yes
Innocent? seemingly
Tonight well fed, and with four new people he can rely on in this country, this city, but no idea of where to next or when…

Maternal instinct kicked in, and with my own son estranged I henned this one in the first 15 minutes 😉 Think I miss having a teenager to fuss about? And there’s my youngest…living in his city over there in the big U S A. Wonder if he’ll finish world exploration and get back before she bids Boston farewell.

The last photo I took is of him – a lovely, smiling boy on the couch under the big front window. I sent it to his parents to show them he’s alive and well, on this side of the great ocean. The light is streaming in behind him and even though he’s sitting you can tell he’s tall…and he has mighty big feet.