Falling Out

Why do we fall out of favour with people or stop calling someone up or inviting them around? I sometimes get really uncomfortable with the fact that apparently real caring can sometimes turn to disinterest or even loathing.  I’m reflecting on two big falling outs in my life.  When my Aunt and mother rowed over who paid more for the crackers..or was it whose children ate more of them?  Anyway they stopped visiting each other.  We all suffered so much from not seeing our cousins again..we never really got back together in the same way it was awful losing them mainly because they were brown skinned like us;  my aunt, like my mother,  had married a man from the Caribbean,  we just didn’t know anyone else like that.

And then there was the falling out we had with some friends and neighbours a few years ago..it was basically because we parent differently and they got it into their heads that we didn’t like their children..which was nonsense…although I can see how people might think that of me..I can be exacting I suppose and that gets misunderstood but I think it’s important to be honest with children..they see through you if you don’t and I hate being condescending or indulgent which are the other options….I’ve worked with children for a long time..I worked with my mother child-minding when I was 17….. she had this way of persuading everyone to believe she adored their children ..she had this sickly sweet way of talking to them..all sugary but once their parents were gone she dropped the act..I hated that..so maybe I’ve gone too far the other way…I can’t be sweet unless I mean it…when I mean it..I feel a flood of love for them…the warm feeling you get when you are making friends..and it’s so hard to fake that I don’t even try..so I suppose when I wasn’t feeling all warm and loving to their children maybe it looked like I disliked them….maybe…..but what I’ve found with the children I’ve got to know over the years is that once we make friends, we stay friends….even if their parents are no longer in my life….Anyway these days….with these two, erstwhile bosom pals…we are barely polite to each other…. before there seemed to be so much affection there.  Perhaps though I’m mistaking things..perhaps it was really exaggerated politeness..not real feeling..or real knowing of each other.  It must be so….or else we are all shamefully fickle.

What a bonus it is to make friends with an entire family….but even then it is not without its stresses…..the presure for everyone to get on..especially the children..when maybe it’s just the adults in the equation….I recently got back in touch with an old friend of mine..we used to be very close..but now she is a mother of five and on her own..she is,  in lots of ways, still the same person..but I find it so hard to regain the ground we used to stand on…our children have shifted us…and sometimes the gulf between us appears unbridgeable.  I don’t really miss the ‘us without children’ friendship..I believe I’ve moved on…but I miss the closeness..that’s what I miss..because how can you get close when there are seven children between you.

The Black Knight

I’m reading my son a book called Arthur of Albion, I wanted to introduce him to a legend that was indigeonous rather than from elsewhere, I thought I would want to be cramming his head with African, Irish or Caribbean stories..but the native English ones seem to fit best at the moment..it’s sort of where we are standing and it fits with the history he is learning……So I thought Arthur was was a good place to start…..even though it’s going to be eurocentric..so imagine my surprise and pleasure when I discovered Sir Palomides, a knight of the round table whose father was Saracen and whose mother was Irish. Why didn’t I know about him before!  Throughout all my reading as a child..I was scouring the books for someone like me and all the time he was there in Camelot, hidden like so many black people….real and fictional..so I’m on  a quest…the quest for the black knight..there must be more of them out there…..

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Palamedes_(Arthurian_legend)

Spiral

I am not bothering to sleep very much at the moment..never have in fact and since lack of sleep is supposed to shorten your life I must be on borrowed time.  Last nigtht was no exception I stayed up ’til the early hours getting school unifrom washed..making little mincemeat cakes..Oh yes…and planning a small event for the toddler group children.  

Each year David and I make an advent spiral…….for those who don’t know what that is…..it is a spiral of greenery which the children walk. They carry an unlit candle and light it from a central flame then they walk out again, placing it somewhere amongst the greenery as they do….. so……David plays gentle sweet tunes on his octave mandola and everyone is transported..(only briefly for the 2 year olds).

I always gripe about doing it weeks before I start up to the minute before  I set it up ..and this year….because I stayed up making cakes and hanging up washing, my fuzzy brain blithly spent the morning preparing at a snails pace thinking I had all the time in the world……. …So I get there with only 30 minutes to do an hours work…..I’m spitting at everyone cursing under my breath until I pick up that first branch of greenery…..draw out the spiral…..light the pillar candle in the middle…..hear the music…then…I fall under the spell…the power of the trees brought indoors..the delight of the children carrying their light; one with his measured pace, like he is walking up an isle, one that steps over the walls to get back out..one that straightens the wick before she lights her candle….it works it’s magic on me and I’m planning next years before I’ve cleared it away.

On letting go of the Christmas tree

My seven year old son dressed the tree this year.  I’m usually so particular about where things go, that the blown glass be only handled by me, that each branch only holds one decoration, that the porcelain sun and moon sit next to each other. I’ve always insisted that it had to be so…. but this year was different.  His older sister was out, his Dad and I were busy and he was keen.  I left the room for a while and when I returned there he was, ankle deep in packaging. I watched his careful unwrapping, his exclamation as each piece was recognised, his thoughtful deliberations and his growing delight as the gaudy beauty emerged. 

None of the precious things were broken or lost, far from it, something infinately more precious was found, the joy of letting go……and as a bonus I discover with suprise, the real beauty of the trinkets that each year, I have handled quickly, distractedly, with that undercurrent of Christmas stress……. because now I can see them.

skin to skin

a photo of me taken by my daughter

My daughter in her glow of new womanhood

stood over me and gently pinched the skin under my eye

face full of squirming curiosity

like a small child examining a bug.

The tiny pleat her fingers made

sat there obediently and she laughed

with triumph and delight.