(Brekka – Rainforest nut butter on wholemeal toast, raisin eyes + banana ears + button nose…cutest brekka ever!)
Friday was an ordinary day. You know, one of those. I had nothing particularly exciting planned; in fact, I could feel the usual rhythmic hum that happened every twenty-four hours in this corner of the neighbourhood at this time. When people woke, dressed, headed out for work. Really? I was just doing my thing, doing my best, but doing what I had to do to get by. As the days (weeks) elapsed we had both stopped hoping so desperately for news from the solicitor (hoping for the phone to ring) – feeling anxious at 4pm and dashed come 5 knowing that the offices had then closed for the day (or God forbid, the weekend).
It was just a normal day.
But it wasn’t.
Lunch time came and went, as did the droplets of rain that made themselves present down our kitchen window above the noise of the radio and television. And then the phone rang.
My mothers face. Oh, I will never forget that beautiful expression.
When our solicitor solicitor asked if we would be ready for this coming Friday to make the move, my mother replied; “We’ve been ready for three years.”, and they both laughed.
I secretly purchased a Thank You card today, unbeknown to my mother, after pondering for a few days.
You see, its funny.
Sometimes you don’t realise you have a dream until somebody opens up a door for you to walk through, an opportunity for you to accept (or equally, reject). I don’t know where I would be if I remained in this town ten years from now. I certainly wouldn’t be alive. But what I do know is, is that I wouldn’t have found the strength within myself to make the positive steps towards my recovery that I have made since June.
When my mother decided to put out house up for sale three years ago, I wasn’t excited. It also wasn’t a joint decision and it definitely wasn’t my dream. My mother wanted to retire by the sea. That’s not saying I didn’t want to go, but I was comfortable in this still little village in which I’d spent the last twenty-two years of my life.
“Your task is not to seek for love, but merely to seek and to find all the barriers within yourself that you have built against it.” – Rumi
Quoting Rumi again – “The wound is a place where light enters you”. And its true. Its during these last twelve months thats I’ve opened myself up to the gift of (light) change and other equally frightening and wonderfully enthralling things that come along with going against my need to resist. I found a path, a purpose, and I believe that by accepting my mothers gift of change, I’ve been offered a new life that will, in itself, deliver an altogether new set of challenges, career opportunities, adventures and incredible journeys that I am only beginning to plan for.
How do I thank somebody for that?
It’s a dream I possibly didn’t realise I had myself.
(Celebratory Dinner – Best ever home-made red lentil stew made with just about everything in my fridge!)