Cell by Cell

12th June 2011

We are invited to brunch by an old friend at a new friend’s house. They are both lovely and I feel a bit nervous. How will my husband be? Will he manage the conversation? Will he know who we are talking about? Will he say something inappropriate? Will he get tired? Or bored if he doesn’t understand? Will I talk too much to cover up all this silly worry?

We sit at the table with them in a beautiful, peaceful, open plan room overlooking her garden while the rain and gusting wind slash at the trees, the bushes and the flower pots and knock over the sun umbrella. I immediately feel welcomed and at ease in their company. We share our stories over delicious mushroom and asparagus tortilla, mugs of coffee and hot croissant. And then we arrive at the heart of it.

If I let you see my quaking frailty, my jealous bones, my spiteful claws, my torn sinews - then you will show me yours - your version of my mess. And then together, cell by cell, we can dismantle the wall we think divides us. And let the light shine in.

I didn’t need to worry about my husband. He was himself as he is now. Just perfect.