Out of the Mouths of Babes.

Painting eggs at Easter has long been
a tradition in this household.
He set me new challenges each year,
to create a surface decoration that would
double as a homage and gift for a chosen friend.
This year, Anna and Emma - Andrew's two wee girls
whom he always teased with huge affection -
were the ones to provide the commission.
Dan himself would be the recipient.
But how to get the miniature work of art to him,
residing as he does now in the stars ?
After only a moment's reflection
Anna's eyes twinkled with inspired innocence.
Of couse, how obvious - tie it to a balloon !
And so today Dotty and I each found ourselves
remembering our stolen loves on the pristine surface
of a blown duck egg.
Past joys were remembered in the flow of the pen
as it traced round the curves of that most perfect of forms.
Delicate and fragile, the hollow shells
were filled with our sense of loss.
We breathed our remembrance into
rainbow ballons and tied them tightly to gold ribbons.
Down by the shore, sushine broke through
to herald our launch. However, two foolish
but foolhardy women were about to find out
about the contadictory power of the elements.
Fierce onshore winds and gentle sentiments
are not a harmonious mixture.
After several frustrating efforts
and carefully observing
the courses of seagull and squalls
at various locations along the coast,
we finally achieved lift off.
A vigorous breeze at Cockenzie old harbour
dragged the Easter tributes from our grasp
and sped them upwards to race
over the spindrift.

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