Words by Karen Macdonald
The journey continues. Today is a much better day.
That awful knot of anxiety in my stomach is there, as always, but not as tight. The lead weight pressing on my heart is not quite so heavy today. I’m tired as usual, have so much to do, but not right now this minute, so I can have another game of sudoku, shut my eyes for a while, fall asleep. It’s a drowsy summer afternoon, and I can hear all the sounds while my body remains motionless, completely relaxed and for a while the tension drains away. I hear a train rumbling by. A little single-engine plane drones peacefully overhead and then there’s the gentle hum of a busy lawnmower. The voices of children playing next door. “Tommy, you squirted me. I’m telling on you.” Tommy’s dad starts his lawnmower which drowns out the other one and the complaints of the little girl playing with Tommy. A heavy thump on the conservatory roof above me makes my eyes fly open to see the underside of a large seagull strutting about over my head.
Tommy (next door) and the little girl playing with him make quite distinctive noises! Those two are inseparable friends, but he teases with giggles and she reacts with exaggerated high pitched screams! I remember my own childhood games. In those far off days it was cowboys and Indians. Not sure what it is now, but it’s the same noises!!
Now it’s silence apart from the sweet sound of birdsong in the woods behind and the twitter of little birds in the hedges. Peace. The occasional sound of a car passing. The builders along the road have ceased their banging and drilling. The further distant pile-driving activities have ended for the day. The children have gone indoors. The lawnmowers have stopped. You’d hardly know that we’re in busy suburbia.
At the end of the day I’ll feel frustrated with myself that I didn’t achieve more, but hey-ho, tomorrow’s another day.
Meanwhile, my boy is in a much better place too! He has a counsellor who’s really getting to the nitty-gritty and seems to have made a breakthrough in motivating him to do some things he’s been talking about doing for ages, quite creative stuff. He’s still drinking silly amounts of beer, but not whisky. That’s huge progress. I spoke to my boy’s case worker yesterday and we seem to be getting slightly closer to the chance of detox sometime, but rehab has to be fixed up. The left hand somehow doesn’t always seem to be speaking to the right hand. Someone said that it’s those with the loudest voices who get help quickest. My voice isn’t very loud. I’m too polite maybe.
Oh-oh. The children’s voices have started again. They must have had their juice and biscuits. Giggling and screams! “Tommy!!” That’ll be teasing and response!! “It’s not f-a-i-r.” Tommy’s whoops and giggles help to keep me sane. Woodpigeons cooing in the background now. “Do-doo-do-doodoo!”
I love remembering my own children in our garden all those years ago. Exactly the same noises! My boy and his sisters and all their friends. Happy days and happy memories. No doubt our elderly neighbours in those days were doing battle with the same demons that we’re battling now, or similar. Those neighbours had gone through WWII and all the hell which that brought. The more things change, the more they stay the same. As my mother used to say, “We live to fight another day.”
I’ll finish crushing the latest lot of cans. I’ve got it down to a really fine art now. Then I’ll go off to the supermarket for more supplies.