An Eighth Shot of Espresso: Coffee and Creativity on Mum's Third Shift

We fell out of teatime No more quiet afternoon of drinks and snacks As the seasons turned and the shadows grew long and the leaves went from brown to green again. No more plastic kettles and little teacups on saucers and the parrot puppet asking for more lumps of sugar or the penguin stealing chocolate chips from the yellow beaked toucan. Hot tea is so posh Iced tea from Daddy's pitcher in a summer's day biscuits and gravy instead of biscuits and sandwiches childhood put away Mum's teacup stands alone.

  What do you see with your wide stitched on eyes A perpetual smile on your stitched on snout and soft large ears on either side of your head? How many tears have fallen onto your once fluffy fur? How many miles have you walked on big awkward feet while being carried under a child's arm? How many times has a little hand pulled your orange striped tail? A not so little companion on the road of life sewn and repaired again and again washed and tumbled in the heat of the dryer. And how many years of loving smiles and squishy hugs for how many generations?

Glassy eyes have seen through the years fur threadbare stitching at the seams stuffing spilling out repaired and resewn over and over again time and time again a silent sentinel absorbing tears chasing the monsters away from under the bed. A veteran of many tumbles in the washer and dryer. Logged many miles in cars, trains, planes seen many sights through the window. Passed on to a new generation old wizened eyes have seen far too much.