Fog

6.20 am

Freezing fog, thick, impenetrable. The sort of weather in which you could get easily lost if you strayed from a path. The fog makes everything close, claustrophobic. Amazing how a day can shift  so quickly from one weather front to an entirely different one. It was bright, sunny, frosty and clear in the morning, and then the slate grey forbidding cloud of fog descended.

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Despite this fog, I walked out onto the moors with Syd and Patrick, we rarely get time together. Just us three. It was us three for seven years. Life is richer and busier and more complicated now that we have Naoise , but it was lovely to bestow our eldest child with all of our love and undivided attention for a few hours.

I walked up front away from Syd and Patrick , just for a little while and saw a crow perched on a rock, only ten feet away from me. He remained for a while staring. Both of us motionless, staring. Then raised his wings and was gone, enveloped by the fog.

Another failed attempt at reaching the Bridestones, as the fog was far too thick and far too menacing. The fog was bad for Syd’s asthma and so so icy cold. The pub meal was called us, so we took a right hand fork down the hill, through the woods, back along the noisy main road.

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All in a line tucked up cosy in Naoise bed, we watched Intersteller, a tense, apocalyptic, peaceful, thought provoking film. As I slipped into sleep, I whispered to the children, hope to meet you in my dreams. Perhaps we all jumped down a worm hole together, floated in space for years, just breathing, suspended in non-time.

As I write this Syd is lying on the sofa, fully dressed in uniform and wrapped in blankets. He didn’t sleep well and woke in the night. I slept through but woke around  5.30am.

The fog is thick around my head. I feel tired. The film we watched made me feel anxious. I hold my sons close. The film made me think about time. The shortest time. Our lives together. The shortest time. I bit my nails, I cried.  I thought about writing this, my desperate need to record. To record for what ? Is it an attempt to hold back time ? The days run shorter now I record each one passing.

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I have piled the lamb skin and a coat on top of Syd, he has fallen back to sleep. It is bitterly cold in this front room, the stone floor sucks the life out of everything. The gas fire is broken, so I cannot take the edge off the cold. More reason to find some paid work.

The clothes tumble in the dryer and the cooker buzzer sounds beep beep beep beep ….beep beep beep beep