6 months away, I come back and it’s like putting on a pair of comfortable old slippers – it’s like I’ve never been gone… the weather is filthy, it’s cold and wet, the predominant colours are grey and green – but no sooner have I landed in the village than I run into old friends and neighbors … village life… the cottage is none the worse for wear, a bit cold and damp but no leaks, and sweet sam is looking fighting fit and so happy to see me…
but not all is fun and games… dear sweet Liz is on the way out, barely in the land of the living… the first days back we have good visits, relatively, with good conversation – her body has totally crapped out on her, she is bed-ridden, but her eyes and spirit are still totally there… but by today, her 90th birthday, she has to make a supreme effort to stay with us long enough for us to give her the gifts, cut the cake, and sing a couple of songs, before she has drifted off to the land of nod… I find myself wishing she would drift off to sleep while sis and I are singing and never come back…
the past few days been a ghastly whirlwind of going through her house and dividing up the spoils between the cousins – the house is all but sold – her decision, no blame attached – but what I need like a hole in my head is more stuff, and somehow it all seems premature, altho’ I know it’s not…. however, I – we all – want to honour her life and her memory by taking on the things of her life, giving them a home with us, a continuation of some sort – plus it’s all so redolent of family, of the grandparents and generations before… but the cottage is already crammed to the gills with things from saltoun…. what will I do with it all??
we went to the morritt arms anyway, the 4 of us, david, nepole, diana and I, where we would have taken Liz, had she been up for it, and had lunch in her honour, watching the rain pour down in torrents outside… and tonight we all went to have supper with moppet and johnny (cook-hurle), which was a whole load of fun, coming home under the light of a beautiful half moon and a sky full of stars – typical of this part of the world – dreary days and clear, crisp nights…
as I said, sam is sooo happy – he is a cotherstone cat, I cannot move him; angela is happy to continue feeding him with the hope that he will move in with her by next winter… so be it… if it ain’t broke, don’t fix it…