It was the end of a long day working on the novel, and it was most definitely time to get outside. Arthur grabbed his ball, I grabbed my hula hoop, and we headed for the patch of grass which overlooks the bay. The sun was low in the sky, casting long shadows and bathing everything in its gentle orange light.
Arthur was off as soon as we passed the cars and I could let go of his hand. I watched him running and giggling whilst looping the hoop around my hips, breathing in the sea air and the view.
There were dogs out too for their evening stroll, some coming over to sniff around and say hello. Arthur loved that. He loved throwing his ball too, and trying his very best to catch it.
It wasn’t long before he’d commandeered the hula hoop, defying physics in his attempts to spin it round himself but ultimately content just to take it for a walk.
It was a beautiful evening, and there were moments when I caught him just sitting and looking up at the sky, marvelling at the bigness of it all.
I love those moments: so simple and yet so precious. Just me, my boy, a ball and a hula hoop. Bliss.