This Time Last Year

This is what I wrote on Facebook exactly a year ago today.

Famous Last Words or Tempting Fate?

23 January 2020 at 13:38 ·

This week, so far, I've managed 3 three mile walks: on Monday into town to get Thunderthigh's jeans' zip replaced; on Tuesday down to and back from the People's Theatre to see Dial M for Murder; and today to and from Forest Hall to put my small Ernie winnings into the bank and check out the charity shops.

My route took me through St Bartholemew's church yard.   The church was open so I popped in.   The two ladies (Ann and Anne) minding the church invited me to have a look around or light a candle.  Sitting in the front pew I realised that, for the first time in years, there was no one I needed to light a candle for.   This time last year I was waiting for cancer to claim Paula*; candles were lit for her many times and in many places, but no more.   Thinking of my friends and family, no, there is nobody with any specific need I know of. 

We have come through storms and cataracts, and I know that there will be more rapids and waterfalls ahead (and who knows how soon), but for the moment there is calm.   

I can stop paddling like hell, lay across the oars and enjoy the view for a while.

And I am grateful for it.

 

Post Script

That “and who knows how soon” haunts me a little.

But not as much as what one of the Ann/es said when I commented I had no-one special to pray for:  “Pray for our country.”

Psychic Clara, as my mother used to say.

It was two weeks before Ferretfingers broke his ankle, about four before this present unpleasantness began in earnest and nine before I started trying to do a daily lockdown blog.

 

*RIP February 2019