On Wednesdays he leaves the Island
A trip to the mainland to get our shopping.
The wake from our little boat
Comes back to me on the shore.
I whisper a prayer
And then I feel foolish.
When he returns
He tells me how the world is.
The images mix in my head with my anxiety
Like the weed and brambles on the hill.
I walk round the Island.
I could go any way I wish
But I follow the same route every day.
Past the cherry tree that is dying
Its leaves burnt amber
The blossom bruised and limp.
Caroline Sheppard and her family live alone on a small island off the south coast of the UK. They are caretakers for the island and she hasn’t been to the mainland since lockdown. She keep a diary but hasn’t done any writing before.