How’s your day going?
I’ve just been told our house needs a new roof. It’s going that well.
I’ve just been in the attic and saw mould and condensation and the reason why there’s water pouring from the bathroom ceiling. That well…
It’s going so well I’ve just had to rescue baby clothes I had kept to remember how tiny and sweet my giant teenagers were not so long ago, from a leak that rotted the box they were in and that made me really sad. I had to throw away some of them, too stained by mould and yellowed by wet cardboard and I wanted to cry. That is how well my Tuesday is going.
The saddest thing? books. boxes of baby books ruined, soaked, pages stuck together and bleeding into each other….
I know they’re only things. I know I can buy another edition of the Gruffalo for the grandchildren (that may or not come)… but I wanted THAT one. The same one I read to all three boys, read with them sitting on my lap, still warm and soft after a nap, or sweet smelling post bath at bedtime… THAT one. Not a new one that doesn’t have ruined corners and bits of cheerios stuck here and there.
That’s how my Tuesday is going.
I know they’re only things. Replaceable things. But they were also memories. Souvenirs. Pieces of our lives. I’m having a bit of a hard time in accepting the fact my boys will soon all spread their wings and fly and this feels a bit like another sign. Forget the past, they’re not babies anymore.
The Gruffalo is drying on the AGA, a vain attempt I know, but I have to try even if I’m not holding much hope for its recovery. The Little Red Train is headed for the bin and QPootle 5 will never reach anywhere else but the recycling box. So many others too irreparably damaged, stained, smelling of damp.
I hope your Tuesday is better than mine.