When I finally made it to the riverside, I found rather more water than I had expected. It wasn’t just in the river, where it should be. It was covering the path – the very path I’d been looking forward to walking along.
I sulked for a bit. Not fair. After all this effort. Nothing going right for me at the moment. You know the kind of thing.
But then I made my way to a bench which had its feet under water, and put my legs up on the seat. I listened to the river gently lapping. I watched dog-walkers wading by in their wellies. I read about silence.
It’s only after we’ve let go of what we think we wanted, that we can enjoy what we got instead.
I don’t need to leave the house until 3pm today, and so I have decided to go back to bed. Unfortunately I don’t have a tree bed (aren’t they beautiful?) but mine will do.
I’ve brought tea (earl grey of course), A Book Of Silence, my laptop, a cat, this article about fear by Ezra Bayda, The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay, my journal, a view of the melting snow, and Bagpuss.
What more could anyone need?
If I’m not careful, I’ll start feeling guilty. It’s daytime, and a weekday. I’m not ill. If I waver, I’ll read Carver’s marvellous poem again.
What can you give yourself (give yourself over to) today?
Woke up this morning with
a terrific urge to lie in bed all day
and read. Fought against it for a minute.
Then looked out the window at the rain.
And gave over. Put myself entirely
in the keep of this rainy morning.
Would I live my life over again?
Make the same unforgivable mistakes?
Yes, given half a chance. Yes.