You're not gone when I can still write to you

17 Apr 2020

Dear gran

When I'd stand in your cold bathroom, homely but chitteringly unwelcoming, beside the paraffin heater and you'd pour boiling water into the sink from the kettle, I'd wonder "what the hell do I do now?" I'd stare at the hot sink. And I'd think "I'm not dirty, my face hasn't been anywhere, it hasn't done anything". With one finger, I'd roll around the clean face cloth inside the sink watching the swirls and then make splashing noises to disguise my silent moves. I'm sure I was neither the first nor the only one to not wash my face before bed. Now, thank you, that little ritual at the end of a day is mine and its one I actively look forward to.

Perhaps it was a day of challenge. Who am I kidding, they're all challenging for all of us! And it's a treat to wash off the day. Watch it slide down the plug hole. Fresh for bed. And I thank my granny. And I think of her. You are still with me gran, and I hold your lesson from 40 years ago close to me each night. And it is a guide. We are not alone. We are holders, bearers, givers and learners. We receive. We carry. We pass on. Each without fully understanding but securely knowing it will all fall into place as it's meant to. Trust it will be ok. Trust that it might not be what you hoped but you can deal with it. Move inside it. Wash off the day and let it go. Tomorrow we go again. Manyana. See you then.

Love from

The room above the garage

A Moodscope member.

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