And so they return, to a home away from home, full of challenge and opportunity, guidance and self-invention.
Even at the Welcome Break off the M40, Conrad already spots a friend: “Hey, that’s xyz. Hi, xyz!”
B: “How do you know xyz? He’s in the Rs.” (That’s the level above Blake’s)
C: “I read to him.” (?!?)
The brilliance of the sunshine finds its match in the colours that rise to meet it, from the trees that still bear some leaf, which by this time in the season are not many now.
The ground is a pleasant litter of yellow and brown crispness, not yet fully surrendered to decrepitude, resting in the soft forgiveness of verdant green.
I look up through my sunroof at a Wedgwood sky.
After weeks of unseasonal mildness, this morning’s air is a more proper October. But in sun like this the nip is not unwelcome, rather invigorating.
And so the season turns.
They run off this time, so keen and ready to rock and roll and get stuck right back in.
“Bye, Mama!” in chorus, not even facing back.
“Ooi!!! Where’s my hug?”
Two smiling bodies turn in mid-run and pelt back, hurling themselves into my arms.
I squeeze, tight. I kiss, soft shiny heads. I breathe in, deep.
They smell so good.
And they’re off.
It’s been 10 days of such goodness we’ve had.
Took me everything to pull it together for them. So many old friends to rekindle connection with, things to do, toys to play with, things to eat…
A much adored and wonderfully honest friend – I wouldn’t take it from anyone less – told me today I needed detox and slimming 😳😬 which was a rather, um, direct way to tell me I need to take better care of myself. I smiled, unoffended, reading that this morning. It’s true, after all. It is what it is.
But I also know what it takes to deliver on the responsibilities, all-round, that I’ve chosen to shoulder across this crazy breathtaking necessary stretch of my existence. The grind goes on a while yet. But I am content to walk that road in practice. This is just what it takes.
Like what I wrote some posts earlier… things just take time. And there are distinct steps in the process.
And when I can sit here, in my car, taking a moment out to write this while bathing in the beauty of boys noisily playing and autumn gloriously exhibiting… and I think of all that I’ve delivered, to the people I love, and I mean those I will benefit more distantly through my work intentions as much as my nearest and dearest…
All the magnificent faces of my womenfolk that have graced my Facebook wall this week, smiling back at me in silent courage and strength as they accepted my invitation to play…
I surrender, in this moment, to utter safety. The safety of knowing without the shadow of a doubt that whatever I’m doing, whatever I have devoted my self in service to, is happening for the best reasons.
It feels to me that I have finally figured out how. How we each create our own meaning. ❤️
Now comes the sharing of it.
Ps. There was only one moment this morning when tears came. And they were mine.
Conrad came up with mango number 2 from the shop, to practice the lesson he’d learnt, about cutting number 1 prematurely and spoiling the pleasure the mango had to offer had he been able to be patient and to learn how to tell when it was truly ready to eat.
I taught him to sniff and palpate it. Still a bit hard. But edible. Not at peak. But I offered him a realistic assessment. It was “okay” now, not amazing, but by the time he came back in 3 weeks’ time it would be too late. His choice.
His answer? “Can I eat half now, Mama? I’ll eat the green half and save the red half for you.” 💔💝💖💘