Spider Days

Saturday 12th, Sunday 13th , Monday 14th March

Day 325/6/7

Writing this blog feels as fragile as a spider’s thread right now. I want to break it every day. Write nothing. Eat chocolate instead. Watch iplayer. Read poetry, novels - devour other people's words - stuff down my own.

The devastating pictures of the tsumami in Japan keep flashing into my heart. In the night I woke and thought about suffering. I remembered all those years stained by our longing for babies who never came. All that wailing I did inside. All that time washed away.

I could do that now - for years and years. Wail and suffer. But I’m not going to. Feel it - yes. The deep lake of it. Drown in it - no.

Yesterday evening we walked by the sea in cold sand churned up by foot prints and running paw prints. We followed the curve of the bay as graceful as open arms, the long waves breaking like whispers over shells, the sky slowly turning the colour of mangoes.

So grateful for this clear water - just lapping at our feet. Not killing us.