I remember Mum handing me my “Mummy’s Little Angel” apron and lifting me onto the little three-legged stool so I could help her make cookies. She would pass me the flour dredger so I could sprinkle Grandad’s white powder onto the pastry mat.
Her eyes would twinkle as she told me tales from when Grandad tended the windmill, high on the hill, near the village.
Mum is at peace and the Windmill is a working museum but my little Florence is due shortly and I can’t wait to get the apron and stool from the chest in the attic.
Friday Fictioneers is a wonderful weekly Flash Fiction challenge arranged and orchestrated by the wonderful Rochelle Wisoff-Fields.
I’m lucky to have a working Windmill close to home, and I love taking friends and family to visit it and climb all 5 floors to the top!