I think it’s about six weeks since I was last at the beach. It seems I haven’t written much in that time, or actually since mother died at all…
The beach is my happy place. I’m sure if I went back through the blog I’d find most of my writing is done here. Perhaps it’s the quiet. The total lack of needing to do anything. More thinking time.
That can’t be right. I can’t switch off the think. Maybe it’s a different breed of thinking up here, away from the domestics and real life.
I stood in front of the fire tonight and thought about someone I knew way back when, who’s first born was badly burnt in a fire. He’s over thirty now and has lived a perfectly fine life with fewer fingers than he started life with but I wondered if she has ever reconciled what happened. Did she blame her husband? Does she use an open fire to warm the winter house?
My headspace moved from that story to the fact that I am far from the only mother in pain. Everyone has their own story and surely no one can raise children without experiencing every emotion there is. So much joy. So much despair. I believe we’re made of tougher stuff than we imagine when tested. We’ve got this.
The changes to me, and growth through it all, have been quite fascinating and yes, impressive! I like me and I’m proud of how I’ve done.
I hope there is plenty more to come. I hope my son will prodigal back to us. And I hope some of my offspring will have their own. I think it’d be pretty cool to welcome another generation.
Later this year I’ll go to a writers’ festival up north. Back to hippy beach. With siblings. What.was.I.thinking? I mentored a new volunteer this week who told me ‘I’m not speaking to any of my family’. We’re too old for that. Talk to them I said, family is important. I think of my son of course, not my own siblings. Easy to dish the advice, harder to remain zen in their lap….
Without great expectations, I have joined an online dating site tonight…I don’t think it will end the ice cream binges of self pity as per last night but….let the games begin 😉