Although they won't get there in time I write birthday cards to my sweet great-nieces in Italy and walk to the post office in the village to post them.
On the way back I buy 4 big bunches of straggly bright chrysanthemums from allotment man, and fill the window sills with vases of their autumn leaf colours... bringing such a splash of cheerfulness to the grey afternoon.
They are the same colours as the pot of tomato vegetable sauce I cook up for pasta lunch tomorrow at my sister's farm. It's moving out day there. My job is to keep the removal men supplied with cups of tea and biscuits. And to keep us going with hot lunch and flapjacks. I'm taking rubber gloves too in case of cleaning jobs.
Talking to my homeopathic consultant this afternoon, I uncover how home-sick I am. When I moved house I lost my home, our home. My familiar safe place. Although I don't want to go back to that life..... forever changed without Robin ....I still feel interrupted. I have a house which I'm planning to make into a home....working hard for that in the future....grateful for it.
But I'm living in it now. Existing in it half heartedly....everything in limbo. Waiting for me to arrive somewhere....to find some foothold in myself...in these rooms... that I can call home.
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