waiting with twitter

 At some point my twitter and my blog will converge and I wonder if I'll then do a kind of double entry... 

anyway this morning we are home, the flights back only slightly delayed and no issue over our covid test, which had been a mild niggling worry I had the two nights before departure, I've learnt over the years to voice these fears only when it will help me. This time, I didn't want to say it out loud, because only for the briefest of moments in the last 6 days have I been out of ear shot of my daughter. We protect them from our worry when we can. 

She sees through me so well now, the worry about the scans haven't been anywhere near as well hidden as I could manage in the past. I think she has a healthy mix of worry and stoic acceptance. Some from me and some from her dad. He never seems to worry like the rest of us do, when he does I use that as my barometer of potential doom. 

In the last week of term my daughter went to see the school counsellor, she just needed to talk and I sensed that, she needed a space to say what she worried about without any dismissal or layers of, yes buts... she needed to be able to share her fear without us hearing it. The school counsellor told me she was extremely impressed by her emotional maturity and that made me happy. 

It was prompted by a night out where she got very upset about something in her past, she was bullied in England and this has stayed so raw for her, but my instinct told me this was more about now than then. We talked about how she might be able to think about it without such a vivid trigger response and we both know that this is something more complicated than what appears on the surface. Within all this, in the same week we talked about a girl here, the sort who is lost, she doesn't know how to be an advocate for her friends and she doesn't know how to get attention without being unkind, she makes my daughter sad and angry. We talked about why she might be an arse hole. Her mum died a few years ago, her father seems disinterested and her older sister was a teenager when she assumed a peculiar role of mum/sister. Despite these valid reasons for being a bit of a mess, my child said, yes but mum if you died you wouldn't let me be an arsehole because of it. She's right of course. no excuse... but we've talked about that, I have had the luck to ensure I say what needs to be said, to understand my mortality and therefore ensure I've been clear on my beyond the grave expectations. 

And at these times, the wait the inevitable wait, I know why. My mortality holds me and whispers to me when I'm trying to sleep, it taps me on the shoulder when I'm making a cup of tea and it stares me in the eye as I hug her. It sings with me and laughs with me and it won't ever go away, we all have it of course just some of you may not have met her yet. Today I'm glad I have because I value my life and my health and my days here. I relish food and drink and good company and I see her way off in the distance now, she's walking away because it isn't time to dwell. 

Not today.