Every Year a Pearl
Thirty years, strung one by one.
Some years came easily and some were harder won, and every one of them went on the same quiet thread. Come and see how long it has grown.
1997
Married in spring rain
A small registry office, one borrowed umbrella, and a photograph nobody managed to keep dry.
2002
Saturdays at the corner bakery
Two coffees, one almond pastry cut in half, the paper split down the middle. Still the order.
2011
The house with the crooked gate
More hope than money, and a kitchen table that has never once been replaced.
2022
Silver, then pearl
Twenty-five felt like an ending until it wasn't. Five more years only made the point again.
2026
Small hands in the garden
Grandchildren, muddy knees, and tea at four whether anyone asks for it or not.