Tough Repair Hand Cream

Last days in Portugal.....

Good Friday 9am  - I park outside Central station in Exeter and don't have to pay as it's a bank holiday. My husband gets a discount on his train fare with his disabled rail card. I wait with him on the platform till the train comes. He says he knows to get off in Honiton in 25 minutes but I still worry he'll miss the stop.

The town is blissfully quiet and empty...I buy aromatic birthday presents and a small jar of organic hand cream full of macadamia oil and lavender for my sore, cracked and stained fingers called "Gardener's Tough Repair Hand Cream". Not that I've been doing much gardening.....just the usual kitchening. 

Welcome home breakfast with friends returning from NZ is a delicious respite treat while my husband is in the kind hands of my brother -in-law.

 Afternoon allotment plans are spoiled by cold grey drizzle and I feel restless, unsettled and weary without an ounce of desire to do anything at all.

I'm learning a new practice though....when I say inside my head,

I don't want to do this....I don't want to care for my husband. I want to runaway and hide.

Instead of replying,

Well tough, that's what you have to do.

I imagine the frightened little girl inside me and say instead,

Oh sweetheart, it's OK to hide, it's OK to not feel safe, you don't have to come out, I still love you.

Soothing words - tough-less hand cream repair for my sore cracked heart.