Daisies in December

11.50am ( sat on the sofa)

Naoise and his friend bend over to pick daisies from a small clutch on top of the hill. He runs to me with his tiny bouquet of daisies. He hands them to me. I love being given flowers picked by my son.

The weather is completely confused, El Nino they call it. I have never seen daisies growing in December. This is my first bunch of christmas daises.

I talk to my brother via Skype I see sunlight streaming in through his kitchen window. He lives in the North of Spain. He tells me that there is no winter. He tells me how strange it is. He tells me stories of forest fires raging on the hills.

The flood came. It was like armageddon. The river rose and rose and raged and raged. The train track became a river. The power went out. The cars on the road stopped moving. The roads impassable. We stayed inside all day, it wasn’t safe to go out.

We watched pictures of flood devastation via social media.

P and Syd went into town to see if they could help alleviate the flood but it was futile. One boy, one man and one orange bucket cannot stop the floods.

Yesterday P helped clean out a factory that had been affected. We washed some friends towels. I probably should be doing something to help instead of sitting here on my arse, but I need a rest. I need a rest. I facilitated P helping out by looking after N. My conscience says I could do more. Guilt.

Don’t feel very well. Sluggish. Missing Syd, he is at his dads.

Syd has organised to play a benefits gig with his band.

Last night I helped N to make a clay bowl and cup. He loves pottery. He was inspired by a television programme. He is trying to put into practice all that he learnt from observing others making. He presses his thumb into the top of the handle.

This project is fizzling out. Running dry. Lost my love of it. Almost new year now. Mum up north, seen little of my family over this festive period. It always feels sad. Our family. Our family. Christmas suggests that is what you should be doing. But I never see my parents for more than a day over the holidays. I seem to see them less and less. The children miss them. Its to be expected. Not seeing them. The North of Scotland is a long long way from where we live.

I worry about the valley and all these floods. The community is brilliant and resilient and caring, but the floods will come back. The world is ill. This is global warming. The government do nothing. Nothing. People look and stare and are horrified. Nature is strong. Nature is violent. Humans care, but we need to care as much about nature as we care for each other. This is a partnership.

I have never seen daisies growing in December before.

On Christmas eve there were hail stones. I danced in the street. I wondered if I would ever see ice or snow or hail ever again.

Head numb. One hangover rolls into the next…..I miss Syd. I miss Syd. I hate it when he is away. I stop in shock. I miss my son. I miss my son.

Dream. rest. drem. rest.

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