After almost three years of living just me and my babies you could say I was a little .. err.. reluctant to live with a man again.
My childhood, my past, my mind, my principles and carefully curated theories, the voices of other people ringing in my ears .. all of it conspired against me to keep me safe … and small.
Yes there’s more driving having left our old neighbourhood.
More kids, more noise, cleaning, cooking, washing, hanging, folding.
More shopping, sharing, communicating, compromising, cooperating and caring.
Awkward moments, sensitive hearts.
Multiply this by a thousand in a blended family.
(And what about when you have a raging fucking argument and then you’re stuck sleeping next to that person… wow, forgot how fun that was.)
But .. I’ve made other discoveries too, you know.
There’s more laughter and cuddles, kisses, music, dancing. Mornings, meal times and night times are sweeter.
Beauty. Miracles. Love. Just so much of it I don’t know what to do with it really.
For all the children and him, the forces that threw us together, even myself.
This afternoon he went for a walk for the long stems. The rest are from our garden here. Arranging them felt like a dream, which is somewhat true because everything is temporary and ungraspable.
But still so beautiful that looking at them makes me want to cry.