Walking and talking

When you read this, I will be en route on the first of a four-day walk with my two younger daughters, celebrating my oldest one. While others will be joining us, it is nice to have this window of time together, away from everything, before the maelstrom of September and the ‘tunnel’ of the period from my eldest daughter’s birthday until the anniversary of her funeral.

My youngest daughter is starting university this year and we will be on the road north in mid-September. She’s slightly anxious about the whole thing because she had been hoping to defer for a year, but life happened and she had to make a decision. It’s going to be slightly strange for all of us. Only son will be the only young person in the house and he is fairly quiet. He prefers to play his guitar and make objects out of geometrical shapes on his computer. He will miss his sisters. We all will.

You get so used to things in life being the same, even though they aren’t, but this will be a big change. I’ve lost count of the amount of emails I’ve had from press people over the last week which start from a poll showing how relieved parents will be when the kids are back at school. I know the summer holidays are a long haul, and, boy, are they expensive. Plus in our house the washing up is never-ending. Most of the time they are asleep or eating, generally watching some major Netflix series or K-Pop.

But I will miss that backdrop. I will even miss doing the occasional work call in the toilet because of the lack of any other quiet place and despite poor wifi. It feels a little like the end of an era, even though only son is still here and even though I think the two girls will be back several times this term and most probably when their courses are over. Neither of them has any idea what they want to do. I spoke to a friend this week and both her children have finished university and are working from home with her.

I’ve been reading a book about embracing change and reinvention, but I have to admit that, after what has happened to us, I don’t really like change. I like to pretend there is something solid under my feet. Nothing seems believable after my daughter died, not even reality.

But having some time to go into the countryside to walk and talk will delay the next change just a little and give us some much needed time together, even if we spend half of the time limping and in search of vegan tinned food.

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