Nothing like leaving things to the last minute, here’s my entry to The Bloggers Bash Blog Post Competition 2018 Closes at 23:59 tonight…sorry for the short warning!
She was one year younger than me, that shy, pretty woman with the floppy fringe and huge, blue eyes. She burst on the scene with the light through her skirt, and all we could talk about was Lady Diana.
Lady Di. That’s what my American friends called her. I stayed up all night far away from home and watched the fairytale Princess marry her Prince Charming, while my grief for my husband, only one month buried, sat still for an hour or two.
A year is a long time when you’re young. Long enough for me to live again. London called and I watched the news of Princess Diana cradling her new-born prince as my unborn child moved inside me. Soon it would be my turn to hold my own little prince.
A twist and a turn took me back to America where I soaked up news from home. In the undisturbed space between the grocery shop and the school run, I savoured a Peppermint Patty and flipped through People Magazine, Diana’s life splashed across every page.
But something was wrong.
I pondered the photo of her sitting alone, pensive, on the diving board of a luxury yacht. Our lives, though worlds apart, no different as mothers with fierce love for our children and both knowing that sometimes fairytales turn grim.
Yet joy reigns, undiminished, when London calls to celebrate. In May, bells will ring and crowds will cheer and Harry will kiss his bride. The little boy who walked behind his mother’s hearse, his letter meant only for her, now a man walking strong in the legacy of her undying love.
She was Princess Diana to the world, but to Harry, she will always be Mummy.