I forgot about Mother’s Day. The day itself didn’t pass me by, but the lead up to it did. Last week’s column went to print without so much as a passing mention of my first Mother’s Day - no lyrical reflection, no poignant observations, nothing. It was so obvious, and yet, I forgot entirely.

At first, I felt a flicker of guilt about it. A missed chance. A blank space where something profound might have gone. But the more I thought about it, the more it seemed oddly fitting. Because if there is anything that defines these early months of motherhood for me, it is precisely that: the forgetting. The losing track. The feeling of chasing after the hours and minutes of the day before they outrun you.

And here, on this tiny island, that feeling is amplified.

The dark evenings that I have grown accustomed to over winter are fading, each day letting the light linger a little longer. And with the arrival of spring comes the shift towards ‘Season’, when this island will welcome thousands of people in the space of a few months. You can feel the change in the air before you see it. Then, suddenly, the first tourists appear, and before you know it, the island is wholeheartedly awake.

The reality is, for........

© Herald Scotland