Friday 30th April
At 6 am, still sleepy, I pull the collage of photos off the front of the fridge door. They come unstuck reluctantly, linked together in twos and threes, leaving tiny blobs of blue-tack on the shiny surface. They are the smiling faces of our beloved family and I lay them gently by the cooker.
While I wash up last night’s smeary supper dishes a fat pigeon struts on the plastic ridged roof above me. His delicate clawed feet sound like a pattern of scratchy rain.The pussy cat sits nearby, studying another pigeon in the garden through the window of his cat-flap. His food was raided again last night - we didn’t lock out the intruder as we have been doing. My husband’s gardening boots reek of cat spray. I resolve to phone the vet for advice.
At 9.30, two short men wearing protective yellow cloth gloves, wheel in a new giant fridge freezer and wheel out our old one. The one we had for 7 years, disappearing out through the front door into the gaping cave of a huge van. The kitchen feels bereft without our family on the fridge.Now there is a another clean white space waiting for them.
I will find it hard to choose replacement photos, although I have albums full of them.It takes me some time to adjust when things change - which they always do - something I can rely on, like water is wet. So maybe I’ll leave this empty space in the corner of the kitchen as a blank canvas for a little while. And then wait and see whose faces will be smiling back at me every time I pull open the door for a lemon or a leek. Always knowing that changing the photos can't change the love.