Things brightened up a little this week. Summer gave us a little sneak preview with days of scorching sunshine to which Spring fought back with nature emerging from its hibernation and bursts of growth everywhere. The garden and fields surrounding us were alive. Blankets of brilliant yellow rapeseed reached as far as the eye could see, and the most beautiful white blossoms gleamed against the blue skies as we drove down the roads they grew beside. It was quite simply stunning.
And in our own back garden, Arran’s tree was flourishing. I spent a few afternoons, sat on the bench beside it, attempting to start my guitar journey. I was a little too easily distracted by the buzzing bees around the flowers of the tree, and the goats bleating excitedly at the end of the lawn, hoping I would bring them some treats.
The World around me wasn’t the only thing feeling alive. I was too.
My back was so much better that I had managed a brisk race in the garden against my eldest, who won of course. I still tried to convince him that had my back have been in top form – I would have beat him hands down. Truth is, the boy is a whippet, and I would never stand a chance!
I was able to drive again, had managed a singing gig at a restaurant in Boulogne sur Gesse the weekend prior and had even tackled some de-weeding in the garden.
Yeehah – Wimpy Mum was back in the game.
With the sun beating down upon us and the Pyrenees lining the horizon, I decided to take the boys to the old nursery in our local village which had a playground perfect for cycling and skating. The boys excitedly got their bikes and roller blades – and then my eldest ran to the barn, returning with the roller skates I had received as a gift for Christmas. They were decorated in cob webs and bird pooh, as the last time I had worn them was in fact, Christmas day.
The day I discovered I was pregnant with Arran.
A little bit of my spirit deflated as I remembered the excitement and joy I had felt, skating into the village on Christmas morning with my eldest son, blissfully aware of the little person growing inside of me, and knowing I would need to make the most of that rocker skate session as there would not be any for the next 7 months or so.
My memories were interrupted by the impatient beckons of both boys who were already halfway up the road.
I wasn’t sure whether to skate or not. It had been 3 weeks since Arran’s birth and I hadn’t been fully mobile for that long. But I remembered my promise to Arran. To play. To have fun. To take risks. To do things purely because I can. So I put on those roller skates, in all their retro glory, and I skated. Not for long, mind, but enough to feel the wind in my hair and the breeze against my face. Enough to feel my heart pounding from adrenaline and my stomach hurt from giggling. And when I sat and took off my boots, I watched my son’s play happily together, completely unaware of the time passing. Completely immersed in the moment with all its wonder.
I admit I was a little sore the following day, but it was completely worth it, to just “let go”.
Continue reading Rainbows and Blossom – Part 2