The days at the moment are both full & empty. Full of things that I want to explore intellectually; empty of definite appointments, except those imposed by the after-school carousel of swimming lessons and football practices and ballet classes. Full of time with the Pip-Pop — walking hand-in-hand to feed the ducks, watching him try to master the balance bike that his big brother used to whiz around on, helping him to hold a pen, watching as he tries to write words with magnetic letters on the fridge; empty of constraint, since most days we are free to do whatever we want to (between 9 & 3, which is obviously a large constraint of its own — and together, also a constraint worth mentioning).
It’s good to be back in the rhythm of school this week, but it’s also terrifying to realise that the only thing that normally makes me feel ‘busy’ is the scaffold of the school day. Last week — of course a week of rain — with all three was lovely in so many ways, but less than lovely in how very little they actually needed from me and how very lonely I felt. Hosting playdates for kids their ages doesn’t involve anyone for me to play with. (Though, admittedly, the day we met friends for a picnic, I was so busy telling my friend how little they needed me that I didn’t notice R climbing 30ft up to the tippety-top branches of a tree. The image of him, so tiny in his green coat, waving at me from the spindly branches way up above my head is probably going to stay with me forever. Quite a crowd gathered at the bottom; he was so high, kids were asking their mothers what they were looking at. A boy? Where? Oh, right up there! So, yeah, food, safety etc. I am needed for some things.)
File this one under: thinking on it.
Photos: Apricot blossom on B’s parent’s tree.