I am sitting up in bed in my old bedroom back home. Radio 4 is on, I have a cup of tea, and I am reading Henrietta’s War by Joyce Dennys. It is lovely being back home. But it is so odd not hearing the clang of the stair gate, little footsteps, and a sleepy-warm Jessica hopping in to bed for a morning snuggle.
She lays her head on me and asks ‘where is my Daddy?’ and I reply ‘In the shower darling, getting a nice clean boy’. She chuckles deeply and says ‘because he is a dirrrty boy!’ Poor Carl couldn’t be less dirty, but she finds this so funny.
Mum had her operation and I am here to help out and keep her company. She is recovering more than you would think possible, but at the same time moving is understandably slow and painful. It feels really lovely to be back home, and to slip out from every day life just for a while.
Carl is going to bring Jessica to stay for a day or so in a few days, he knows I would miss her too much to be away for long.
So, here I am. Carl came for dinner last night, and when we said goodbye it felt like sixteen years ago, when we were together but had not moved in together, and he used to come for dinner then go home. How much has changed in that time!
Before I drink my tea, I just want to say thank you for your lovely kind comments on my last post, I am lucky to have such conpassionate and wise visitors here x