The washing up is so achievable.....

 The joy of glorious blue-billed ducks sharing the estuary meadows with

black and white cows at  Bowling Green Marsh in Topsham on Saturday -  before the wind blew up so fiercely I couldn't keep my camera from shaking.

This evening.

Arrow to bullseye. Jet to freedom.

The washing up is so

achievable.

When you have scrubbed at

the egg stuck on the bottom of

the saucepan

it's either gone

or it hasn't.

And you may need to rub 

gently 

at the bit you missed 

in the corner.

Till it's clean

and usable again.

But 

how do you measure 

letting go?

How do you know you 

have forgiven

yourself,

everyone?

After a year

I can now drive past the care home 

where Robin spent a week of his life

so that I could have 

respite.

He didn't like it at all.

The guilt 

chopped me.

For months I avoided it

and drove a different route out of town.

Now I drive past with my hand held up against the side window

screening the view

that used to make my stomach churn.

And I think of something 

happy instead.

And about where I'm going now

even if it's just 

shopping.

On Saturday I drove the route we used to take 

 on a Thursday morning to 

leave Robin at The Mede  Care Centre.

He came to love it there.

They looked after him

so gently

 and loved him

and 

I loved my hours of

freedom.

But when I passed the turning into The Mede

I thought I would have to stop the car

I couldn't see through 

the river from my eyes

and I felt 

I would break 

in half 

in my seat.

Not guilt

but 

gratitude.

And missing him

like a severed 

arm.