Here and there

I’m sat in the front porch of my house: the door is open and I have my feet outside. I have a cup of (interesting) ginger green tea (because I am drinking too much coffee) and am enjoying the spring sunshine.

I’ve been gardening today. The front garden was a bit of a mess so each day I have gone out to do a bit of weeding. I’ve come to the last part where a great big evil nest of nettles await. Hence my green tea break.

Bizarrely, it’s sensation overload, sat in this cosy little porch. Across the road from me a farmer is ploughing the stubble field. Behind me I can hear the jaunty tune of a computer game my son is playing. If I listen really hard, I can hear the breeze in the trees, the same breeze that occasionally enters my little shelter to caress my face with coolness.

My arms are stinging from the nettles and I managed to pick up a few punctures from hawthorn twigs also. Despite this, with the sun on my skin and music playing, I’ve actually enjoyed gardening.

It was a necessary distraction. By rights, I should be on a train now heading to London. There, I would have stayed overnight in a hotel before catching an early morning flight to see Wild Card.

He surprised me yesterday by pointing this out. I didn’t think he would remember, but he did. That’s almost made it worse.

I know, in the grand scheme of things, this is not important. People living in the world right now are experiencing untold horror and heartache because of Coronavirus and I certainly am not trying to forget that. My little problem is exactly that, little.

But, its not making it hurt any less. He has never looked as good as he did today . He comforted me, reminded me that it is our destiny and that we will be together soon. He told me that one day, years from now I will wish he was far away from him and will forget about missing him in this moment. (I told him that it was impossible.) I take comfort in his long projection of our future together. I wish I could focus more positively on something a bit sooner though.

How would I have felt this time, traveling down? What would I have written about? Would this trip have confirmed and consolidated all we say we feel? I will never know now.

So, I’m gardening. Masking the pain of my heart with stinging arms and hands. But like he said, he still there. I need to remember that.


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