Walking and Talking

This morning I got up, dragged y sorry ass out of bed, made a coffee and drank it. I got the kids off to where they needed to be when the bed beckoned me back. My mind set itself to 100% wallowing and I lay there, staring out the window.

It has been one year ago today that we lost our lovely step-dad/dad and for some reason, all of these memories were flying at me. Not the good stuff, but the cancer shit stuff. I had slept with my sisters in a bed next to him and told him that it was ok to go that night. Because we were there and we were not leaving. And in the early hours of the morning, he went.

So in my bed, I did wallow for about an hour. I refused to take any calls. I just wanted to be miserable and let my mind slide down the slippery slope into he depths of despair. This fog had been around for a couple of days now, and I was done. White flag up. All to hard and to sad. I didn’t want to write, which is my normal go-to therapy. I just wanted to bury my head under the doona covers and wish that they day would be over. Like yesterday. And possibly tomorrow. I am sure you have been there too.

But then I looked out the window and saw the glorious sunshine. Fuck this.

I scrambled around to put on some active-wear, grabbed my little dog and walked. And walked and walked and walked. The sun was shining, but it wasn’t too hot. And then I thought I would turn this walk into a Walk and Talk Tour. I popped into a lovely girlfriends place and had a little cry. We chewed the fat for a while, before I bid her farewell, so my tour could continue. Man, good girlfriends are just the greatest anecdote to the blues ever. Off I marched, up and down the hills. I turned a corner when headed to Mrs. Jenkin’s place when I felt a sharp pain in the ankle. Next minute, my cheek was passionately hugging the grass of the sidewalk.

“You alright love?” A man doing some gardening called out, having witnessed the whole spectacular scene. I gave hime a little wave before very un-elegantly propping myself back up into the position God intended. Upright. I tried not to show any pain but MAN, my ankle! Turned out that there was a small pothole in that path…

And poor little Isobel. She is only about 10cm high but she kept up with my cracking pace. Face getting redder. Arms pumping like a soldier, taking in great big breaths and expelling them from my chest. Walking and pumping and breathing and looking at gardens that I had never noticed before.

After an hour and a half of my “tour”, I headed home. I said hello to James, who is Horatio’s best mate and who is a permanent fixture at our place, and went to the bathroom to wash my sweaty face. And then, I stopped to look at a photo that Mum had given us all for Christmas. A family photo, which I have cropped for you.

Out off the dozens and dozens of shots taken on that day, it was this one that was selected. With my eyes shut, 25 kilos heavier and wearing my hair, well, I am not even sure what it was doing.

And for the first time, in a long time, I laughed.