Finlay’s Hours: ‘Three Nests’

A chronological collection of writing during my son’s first fortnight of life, in Neonatal ICU.

The one we made and planned for:
IKEA furniture and carpeted floors.
Stars, moons and tasteful Snowfall backdrop.
A library of books and donated cot.
Painted and arranged once, twice, again and again, again.
Quinny Buzz and Mothercare anecdotes.
Eggshell gloss, one, two, three coats.
Attempted insurance claim after freakfall of rain.
Second bedroom across the landing.
Planned and still standing.
During our freefall.

The one we mocked:
Twigs and sticks in the crook of a tree.
Opposite our window.
A reminder of that thing we all share.
An instinct to be at home, to make a home, to shape a home.
They’ve flown away.

The one we sat in:
Dissatisfaction and accidental happiness, at intervals.
Bed, chair, chair, table, drawers and mess.
Hospital food and tinny sounds from travel speakers.
Bob Marley was nice.
Moby helped.
Easter chocolate kept on shelf.
Frequent interruptions and sudden deductions that would hit like silence and leave me gasping. Plastic jug of water.
No carpet.

-Unseen Flirtations

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