This weekend I took the train home to visit my parents. Daniel was in Derbyshire, so it was just me, with a book, my running shoes and the intention to sit and let the days lilt by.
This weekend I sat up late with my Mum two night in a row, sipping nicer wine than I ever choose myself and chatting into the night. The conversation always gets too intense and too indulgent to ever allow ourselves to head up to bed, even when I feel my eyes heavy and itchy with tiredness.
This weekend I kneaded dough with enthusiasm in the eary morning, making a double batch of my favourite pretzels to treat my family. The cheddar and rosemary pretzels went down a treat at lunch!
This weekend I went for a long run along long, flat roads between fields that stretch on for miles. I passed through quaint villages with gardens still blooming in the October heat wave, finishing up in the town where I was born. I passed my old nursery and my first home, stopping by both to take them in and remember myself in that playground, sitting on that kitchen step, playing on my Dad's motorbike in that garage.
This weekend I sat in the sun with my Mum and looked at old photos. We laughed and we cried, we remembered and we tried to remember. We wished we had taken more photos.
This weekend I got a few wonderful hours with a most wonderful friend. We chatted about the things I don't chat about with anyone else, we walked through fields filling our sandals with soil, and we drank pink lemonade in the sunshine. These afternoons always pass too quickly!
This weekend I enjoyed a slow Sunday breakfast with my book and a variety of intruiging jams. Fig jam, ginger jam, and my favourite, red berry and chilli jam.
This weekend I stuck with my good intentions and attended a local Quaker meeting. I sat and let thoughts pass through me until I was moved to tears. Silence can be the most beauitful thing.
This weekend I sat in the garden, crying together with my Mum. Crying for things we can't comprehend, for feelings we can't justify, for people we love too much to let go but also to let suffer. It felt good to share my tears, and to put my sadness into words.
This weekend we visited my Auntie, who has recently adopted a new puppy. Something about this tiny dog had me broken in two with delight: I was incapable of letting her out of my sight or reach, and suddenly it is clear what joy and companionship a little scruffy dog can bring!