It has been a year and a half since my last post, millions of seconds, grains of sand, skies, smiles, the woolly softness life takes on when things are finally stable.
Mr Nice and I have carried on knitting our little story: A messy tangle, crafted by clumsy hands, pulled by the demands of children, and life, but somehow working together, lovingly. Something surely no-one else would wear. But isn’t that what every relationship is about ? Making up patterns that wouldn’t fit anyone else, experimenting with colours and shapes ?
As a new Summer comes round, imperceptible tensions pull at the thread, neither of us really notice, absorbed in daily contingencies, and holiday plans. Until as relationship crisis always seems to hit, things brutally start unravelling.
Once the bewilderment of the first blow subsides, you look back and see pitfalls in which you landed, old demons at work, how perhaps you stopped giving the relationship a high enough priority. Images of all the happy times flutter through you head, and you hope it’s not too late.
This is where I am now, on holiday in the South of France, with a Mr Nice-shaped absence.
I sit on the sand, watch the storm clouds roll in, and I hope.
Lillywood and the pricks – Prayer