Sunday, 13 October 2019

Dawn and tides and remembering friends

Written on Saturday 12th October 2019 6.30am

I wake early. It feels good. I tiptoe downstairs, desperate not to wake anyone, not for their sakes but for my own. I am desperate to be alone, just me, just I. My body unfurls with loud pops and crackles, I present like a rice crispies ad. Slowly I stretch and begin to wake her, this weary, vessel of mine. She is reluctant but grateful and I give her a wink, trying to charm her into forgiveness and compassion. My head clears and my body relaxes and I think peripherally that I see the burdens and loads disperse from my body just like when you wake the babies from a mama spider and they run in every direction to find another home. I find myself sat in the quiet, the dawn light as my companion and the lilting, melancholy tones of Anthony and the Johnsons, my mood for this early start to my day. I wonder about the day ahead and what it might steal? What it might hold? I'm seeing a sibling today. She's the one that I suppose was my best friend growing up, especially through adolescence. Like all best friends, there are the inevitable hiccups and mistakes and messes. I'm not sure that there's ever any clarity on the who, the how, the when or the why? But there is a map, there is history. Like it or not, the story is not erased. It sits proudly, peaking through the cracks and the grazes and the dust that settled on top. Sometimes, I think it's just about finding the right timing for wiping the dust off the surface and digging to find all that stuff just beneath the surface that tells a version of the story that you just might have forgotten along the way. For now, my time is up. The outside brings white light and the birdsong and crow calls sound like an alarm clock: it is time to move and so I bid you farewell dear friend. It's great to be back and when I return it all feels so delicious and effortless. Like a fool, once more I wonder why I ever left.

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