This morning, I was aware, in the quietness of a waking day that I was rousing the old wood in the cottage, and of its lazy creaking responding to my steps, welcoming strange feet. I wondered if the old new house we had left was as welcoming to its tenants.
The location of unfamiliar light switches to be learnt. Fumbling in the dark to find the toilet short lived by the miracle of memory.
A co-existence with nature the early morning birdsong accompanies the rhythmic rainfall on the conservatory roof. A relationship the old new place never allowed.
As I sit, the mountains that may have needed to be climbed yesterday seemed a non event, in fact they never appeared but we were protected. The precious magnificence of the preparing mind having already built unused foundations to cope if needed. We feed the dreams of a thousand situations. If we could but feed only these that really happen how much easier it would be.
The theatre of life moves on. A new act in the production, characters scarcely known to us dip in doing huge things in our lives and we trust them with the preciousness as they carry the table unaware of what’s behind the cup stains upon it. The removers removed themselves. We gave them thanks. Our roles in each other’s play short by necessity. Closing the door on them leaving the crossroad of our time together begins to distance.
Loved faces joined later. Those who also understood the meanings of cup stains, and the rest of the plot. Safe, we’d gathered and shared fish and chips and heavily buttered thick sliced bread. But this was not until their work was done and they knew they had made us comfortable for the night.
So what of the days ahead, what love of life will be found here? What has been carried from whence we came to be used in the new old place. Our minds, our faith have moved with us as an ever present. But childlike we meet the unexplored, leading us to new things and mixing them with our experience and wisdom gives them our shape. The aroma of salt and vinegar and the red sauce stain remain reminding me again of last night’s communion at the breakfast bar. We have already produced an event to begin our history in this place. The first “do you remember when” moment?
The days of comparison will disappear. There will come with time, a moment of grounding, the concrete realisation we are not going back. The acceptance that there is loss of what we had be it bad or good, it is still loss. Our world will never seem quite the same again.