Black fine line script tattoo reading One day at a time, placed across the upper chest along the collarbone.

One day at a time script on the collarbone

Fine line · Chest · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a fine line script tattoo reading 'One day at a time' across the upper chest, running diagonally along the collarbone. The linework is thin and even, with a looped capital O and joined lowercase letters. The ink is solid black on pale skin, and the image is framed tightly on the chest with a soft, slightly out of focus background.

Fine line Lettering Chest Script Lettering Phrase Text Collarbone

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The pipe to the top field froze solid on the Tuesday, and by Wednesday morning Dad was stood in the yard with his breath hanging over him like a bad mood. He didn't swear. He never swore at machinery, only at the weather, and only quietly, the way other men pray. We carried the paraffin heater down from the lean-to and wrapped the joint in sacking, and I held the torch while he worked the spanner with his bad hand tucked inside his jacket.

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"One day at a time," he said, to the pipe more than to me. He'd been saying it since the autumn, about the milk price, about Nan's hip, about the brown envelope from the bank that sat unopened on the dresser for nine days until Mam finally slit it with a bread knife. I'd thought it was just a thing people said. Then the water coughed, ran clear across the concrete, and he laughed like a boy and slapped the sacking flat with his palm.

That night the ewe in pen four started lambing early and badly. By two in the morning there was one lamb on the straw, cold and still, and a second that wouldn't come right. I dragged it out with wet hands and rubbed it hard with a fistful of hay until it sneezed. Then I tucked it inside my coat, held close, where the warmth of me could do what the barn couldn't.

By dawn it was breathing in small hitches against my jumper. I didn't tell Dad I'd been counting too, not the days, just the breaths, one and then the next and then the next, which was the only sum I got right that winter.