Ten close friends came round on Friday night, and stayed til about 2am.
It was the closest thing to my old life that I’ve had so far.
Although they had to sort of situate themselves around me, it seemed to work fine.
We spent most of the night in the garden – a first this year for sure.
At about midnight we all got treated to a sort of improvised ballet dance by my Amber, and Pia’s daughter..
Two ten year old’s doing a random ballet routine in the dark, outside, was more than funny, though no one actually laughed and let on.

I’ve got such kind friends. They all feel my pain so tangibly. They don’t try to move past my injury, they’re there living it with me.
I see it in their eyes, as they read it in mine, a reflection of what I feel.

We’re moving out of our house in October, this house that I thought I’d never leave, and had so many memories in, the only house my children know.
I’ll miss it and all its’ associations, the countless bike rides from here, all the times I walked from here to the river, carrying my kayak on my shoulder, often coming back with it, shivering violently yet still finding the pleasure in pain, as I made myself do successfully, for years and years.

I’ve not seen the upstairs for almost a year.
I won’t again unless I’m carried up for nostalgia’s sake, to say goodbye to the rooms I once frequented every day.

The new place will be a hundred times more ‘suitable’ for me, which will be great, but doesn’t numb the pain I feel for dislocating my family from its former state of contentment.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *