Before my Time

There is a little boy in my daughters’ nursery whose face hunts me. I saw him for the first time yesterday being cradled in the arms of the nursery manager, tears streaming down his face. ‘He joined us on Monday,’ she tells me, ‘he is two years old. He lost his mum two months ago. Yesterday he called me Mummy.’ I could feel the tears pricking the backs of my eyes when she told me that. I think of my daughter and how she will cope should I ever be snatched away before ‘my time’. This thought is unbearable. Unbearable.

(100 Words)