Down here, there's relief in the air: it's getting colder, and the ground is wet from rain these past days. The dark drops quickly and unexpectedly soon after the girls are in bed. Some days there are spaces when Lu and Nell play together and I can sit and stare into the middle distance or read or play on the internet. I've found a good yoga teacher. I've planted lots of freesias and very few broad beans; the bulbs from last year are already rising up under the apple tree with no effort on my part. It's been suggested it's time to start thinking about promotion at work.
Last night I walked across the park in the dusk, feeling pretty and singing out loud to The Church and The Triffids. I went out to dinner with women who have appeared rather suddenly in my life and who seem to like me. We ate Thai and drank wine and talked and laughed. I felt like someone resembling myself.
I used to share an office with a woman who was mad - sweet in many ways but really quite mad. (It wasn't a friendship that ended well.) When I was in a bad patch she told me: 'It can all be different on Tuesday'. In the dark times these past eighteen months it's been hard to believe that life could be anything other than what it is; time and joy were suspended. But things change, sometimes creeping towards difference and sometimes switching so quickly a person can lose their bearings. It can be hard on Monday night and happy by Tuesday noon. Joy cometh in the morning.
There have been many, many times these past months when I've believed I'd only ever remember happiness, that I wouldn't live in it again. But this Sunday night I think that maybe (knock wood, fingers crossed, God willing) the longed for Tuesday might have finally dawned. I worry that in writing this my Tuesday will slip away (I don't walk under ladders either, and freeze when a mirror cracks) but Crazy Kate gave me a gift when she said it to me, and without sounding too awfully, painfully pretentious and oracular I just wanted re-state that hope for someone else:
It can all be different on Tuesday.
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8 comments:
I'm sooo happy to read this Kris. I always feel so much better when I get together with close friends (I'm very choosy so have few close friends). I hope your Tuesday lasts for a loooong time!!!
If Tuesday doesn't last, I hope it comes around at least once a week.
Thanks for providing further evidence for my family that all Kate's are crazy. My Grandpa mentioned, when I was about 16, that he'd had a Mad Aunt Kate. In fact, all the Kate's in the family had been mad that he'd known. My Mum thought he probably should have mentioned that sooner. Before she named me. Fortunately one of the Mad Kates was a maiden aunt, with a love of costume jewllery and sherry, I thought she sounded like the sort of Mad I could aspire to. I've buggered up the 'maiden' bit though.
Mondayitis turns into Tuesday - I like this, I understand it, and after those 18 month long Monday's, you never disregard, fob off a Tuesday, it takes a while to believe in them - this could be a good thing.
I just reread that, I think that was my being my obtuse best. Sorry. I liked this post. Ta. xx
I like that thought. And it made me smile to read it, for you and for the idea that Mondays turn into Tuesdays.
We moved years ago to a place where we knew no-one. I was terribly lonely for a long time. Its hard to make new friends and to fit into already established social networks. I am lucky that I have found another new arrival and we hit it off! With 3 little ones between us, there have not been any dinners out, but plenty in!
I hope Tuesday comes for you soon. That is a really nice thought.
I knew some women friends would appear for you! Glad to hear it.
Oh Crikey! An uninvited rant from cyberspace. No relation to your blog, for sure.
Happy Birthday to Lu.
Check back later!
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