This is not meant as moan or complaint. I simply realised I had words I needed to let go. And no other place to release them.

Where were you at 5.55am when I needed reassurance that the day would turn on its axis? Where were you at 6.40am as I cared for our sleepy children trying not to show my deeper self? Where were you at 7.30am when there was a last minute panic? Where were you at 8am as our teenage son cried into my neck? Where were you at 8.15am as I battled through the wind and rain sharing the load of 5 heavy going-away bags? Where were you at 8.45am as I sat deflated in the car? Where were you at 9am as my mouth twisted into a 'do not cry now' shape? Where were you at 11am as our teenage daughter cried over things she had been holding inside, waiting patiently for me to have time to hear her? Where were you as I held her, cooked for her and pointed her in the direction she needed? Where were you as I drove her through the rain? Where were you when I was exhausted and had to appear fresh to meet our other teenage daughter who had had her second large disappointment of the week? Where were you as I treated her to tea out to hear her face to face, instead of cooking with my back to her? Where were you as I snuggled her into our bed to watch tv so she might feel she was the only one in the world who mattered? Where were you when I received a call well after midnight from our older teenage daughter to say she'd finished work and that the buses had stopped? Where were you as I drove in the night leaving younger people sleeping, unaware I'd gone and hoping the burglar would not repeat? Where were you early the next day when it was time to start again?

Did you not want to be more than the parenting you received? Diamonds are no substitute for presence. They are perfect. And hard and cold. You were gone. You were always gone. It was my realisation of being utterly alone which prompted me to suggest you leave. But I did not imagine you would go.

I rebuild. It is taking a very long time. The bricks keep falling. I keep replacing them. Only a quiet voice, deep inside and very far away whispers it will be ok. I need that voice. When I can't hear it, I need other things to tell me it will be ok, the reassurance that rain falls, the rhythm of night following day, the feel of my heart beating, somebody's smile, each serves to say it will be ok. And it will. Believing is a powerful action which only asks for us to turn up. I whisper "I trust" and the two 'Ts' give my teeth bookends of solidity to say aloud. A little mantra. I do trust. I do believe. There, another brick placed.

Grab your bricks. Rome wasn't built in a day. And Lego can be cathartic! Meet you there.

Love from

The room above the garage

A Moodscope member