Mum used to say that I had a hollow leg. I thought bits of myself had broke away inside me, snapped off and were rattling around in my own air, like spare change, and I never wondered why I didn’t hear my own hollowness inside my head. Like an echo when I walked. And this never happened before – I cracked an egg this morning, and the gobbledygoo yolk was a messy, rust-coloured beginning of something, maybe something like that has a name, I don’t know, maybe something succinctly descriptive. Honestly, it was a bit of a horror. A bit of chaos frying in the old cast iron. You’d think that would put a person off breakfast, but not a bit of it, I was still hungry. Cleaned the pan, and started again. It’s that hollow leg thing; I reckon Mum was right.
Stream of Consciousness Saturday to include a phrase your parents used: a hollow leg and gobbledygoo. ©Misky 2022 Shared with #amwriting on Twitter
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