Mashing Bananas

28th May 2011 Saturday

The best moments from today :

At the allotment in spitty rain, pulling up bendy pink stems of rhubarb - a sucking and a cracking sound as they leave their home crown. Reaching up to cut the flat lacy sprays of rose pink elderflowers from the Sambucus Nigra Black Beauty tree which we planted three years ago, thinking how they will share their deep fragrance with the rhubarb when I cook them together later.

Mashing ripe bananas to stir into the chocolate sponge cake - one of the puddings for the children coming next week. Wondering if they like bananas, imagining eating it with a hot chocolate sauce and whipped cream in case it’s dry.

The worst moments from today:

Walking with my husband along a shaded path, the rhododendrons shining like pale mauve moons in the gloom, overwhelmed by his sadness, his drooping shoulders. And my own grumpiness and steely heart.

We sit across the table from each other, our salad plates wiped clean. He says,

‘When I picked up the doctor’s certificate yesterday, it said it’s permanent - I won’t be able to work again. Now it’s real - up to now it’s just been an idea.’

So it has arrived - that future I’ve dreaded - here and now on the table between us in the debris of lunch - the clear and present danger - I can step into it or away from it. Let it harm me or grow me.

I clear the plates. He says he’ll go and lie down. I peel the bananas and start mashing.