Shadow Elf

 I knew that the unthinkable was going to happen as I slept.  I fought against it with maternal certainty but in the end all I managed to do was to delay it a little. I was panic stricken, terrified; helpless. 
My Elf was gone.

 Even within the dream,I would traumatise myself with the memory, over and over again; knowing that the moment that I stopped, the betrayal would be unforgivable. I would be leaving my child alone in that moment and for every moment thereafter.  Worse, I would have to accept that I hadn't managed to freeze time at the point of separation in order to keep her safe until she found her way back home. I would have to know, truly know that she was away from everyone she loved; unprotected against whatever/whoever had taken her away.
 How could I forgive myself? How could I bear that knowledge?  I didn't even want to try. I wanted to feel all the horror that there was in that moment, because it meant not leaving her alone with her horror now.Any memories of our life before were smothered by the agony of loss.

Last night as I drove home, in the glare of the headlights on the A14 and in the rain, a 7 foot shadow ambled across my path. I saw it quite clearly for it had a definite outline and an unmistakably mischievous gait.  In the hazy, rain-sodden darkness, it seemed to me that it saw me, knew me.

 It cannot be coincidence that I saw an Elf, have an Elf and dreamed I lost my Elf to the darkness.

When have you known unhappiness, the child lingers there, waiting to be consoled always.









Shadow Elf  is my entry for Yearning for Wonderland's Faerie Ring Contest. 


Visit the link above if you want to join in. For another of my competition entries this week, see  
http://postcardpam.blogspot.com/2012/02/sacred.html

Pam's thought for the day

I've been listening to Bob Geldof on Radio 4 in  'Meeting Myself Coming Back' . The format was to walk him back through his life, via the BBC archives. It was a hugely moving piece.
 I was struck again by what a unique man he is and the programme has made a huge impression on me. I have listened to it many times since and it pins me to the target every time. I offer up Bob for readers of Multiple Mum

Above all, his honesty is vast. He never excuses, or apologises for himself. He says what he means immediately, regardless of occasion and he supports himself  to do that. Even when listening to himself as a young man, he respects and agrees with his younger self, not once berating him for naivety, arrogance or for being misguided.
He absolutely stands four-square behind the person that he was then, giving him support and encouragement and giving weight and value to those young words. The wisdom of his age has not eradicated the wisdom of his youth.

To me, it seems absolutely clear, that even as a very young man, Bob Geldof  knew who he was. He spoke with clarity and conviction;  felt the need to please no-one, to conform to nothing but himself.

He was never held back by role or etiquette and is never intimidated by power or protocol. He absolutely uses his right as a free thinker, as a citizen of the world, to both stand up and be counted, and to bring others to account.

I so envy him his memories. Not his memories of Live Aid or punk stardom , but his memories of living as a man who is at home with himself; someone who is not afraid to be whole in public. I envy that.   

He also described the vastness of grief, it's limitless form. He talked of a destruction so complete that it ran like liquid horror through his veins. He would cry in his sleep and know this because he was still weeping when he woke.
And yet, like everything else he says, there seems to be not a trace of self pity or blame.  It was told because he was asked and that was the answer; it was how things had been.

And I am quite proud of a young Pam, who saw such a lot to admire in the young Bob. She knew quality when she saw it and could have done much worse than to use him as a role model.

 If only she had.