Penetrating the familiar is by no means a given. On the contrary, it is hard, hard work.
The Situation and the Story, Vivian Gornick
There was a morning last week when we woke to snow. We hadn’t been following the forecast, and so to us it was all a beautiful surprise. When I write early, climbing the stairs to the loft room, the sky is still dark, but that morning it was like entering a cave — the windows covered with a layer of snow. Writing there I felt like I was encased in cotton wool. There wasn’t much; it was gone by lunchtime. But there’s nothing like seeing the world dusted in white to make the familiar seem somehow magically transformed.
The weeks go by & we try to keep the rhythm. Next week, a break again: half-term and the Moose’s fifth birthday. Today has been about errands: renewing our parking permit; phoning to arrange a new mouthpiece for T’s clarinet & then driving to pick it up. There was a trip with the Pip-Pop to the park where it was cold & empty and we spent half an hour alone as he raced between the train and the fire engine and the slide. And, after school, it will be swimming day, and there will be rushing and changing and waiting and changing and tea and baths and bed. We try to keep the rhythm, though sometimes I feel like the rhythm is keeping me. I liked this interview with Björk. “Women are the glue. It’s invisible, what women do.”