Slow days picking up pace

Yesterday morning the little two headed back to school, just for one day a week, new winter uniforms on, bags filled to the brim with all of their supplies they have had at home, ready to bring back again for home school, excited voices about seeing friends, and doing something so simple and so normal again.

It had been 7 weeks since they were last at school, it was late March that felt like the summer still, days getting shorter with that magical Autumn light doing its thing as we crept into a new season, filled with uncertainty about what was happening in the world. It is now mid May with frosts in the morning, freezing nights and mornings with the most stunning blue sky days that make you feel so lucky to be alive just to see those yellow leaves against that blue sky.

I sat in the sunshine for 20 minutes in the afternoon after working and before bringing the washing in, a hot cup of tea’s steam twirling about in the light and thought about how things are slowly starting to change, again. About the girls being back at school a little, before it will be a lot. About the time we have had together, about how quickly things will go back to what they were, or will it?

I thought about what I will remember most from this time. The glorious skies and the autumn colours as they have turned and marked the passing of days and weeks, now months.

About all of the baking, the cakes, the breads, so many treats on our kitchen bench over the past few months and what comfort and simple joy they have brought us. A sense of accomplishment for Harper or I, pride as we see something come together and of course the happiness that can come from the smell of something baking in the oven, the taste of that first bite of a warm hot cross bun as the butter melts.

About our endless afternoon walks and the non stop complaining about them from Maggie. It’s too hot, it’s too cold, it’s too far, I don’t want to go home yet. The bike riding, the scooting, the visiting the local dogs along the way.

The time together as a family, even more concentrated that we usually have (which is a LOT of time together) as Rob and I both work from home anyway. The fights, the tears, the plates of FOOD, the boredom, the love and the quiet simple time of playing together, being together. A time to be frustrated and annoyed at the way Rob does that, I do this. The stupid fights over nothing, that seem like everything. The worry about messing up schooling – the questions of are they ahead? Behind? What have we done? We are nailing it – all in the space of one school day. The time to sit with grief, to wallow in it, to feel it, to not escape it. To question big and small things. What a blessing, all of it.

I’m not sure of what will come in the months that follow, the years even? Will it be years? The further loss and worry that will come to families with this sickness. The financial uncertainty of it all. I am so glad that we have had a business that meant that I was still able to work and support of family and of course give me some mental time away from being home the whole time. I am SO grateful for all that Rob has done during this time with schooling the kids, all while having his foot broken and the dreaded moon boot on that has meant no walks with us, no driving, it’s been very hard for him and I am so glad he has kept his sense of humour and endless patience in tact. Just, at times.

I know that I will never forget these days from March to May. There has never been anything like them, and I hope in our lifetime, we never see them again. It’s bittersweet isn’t it when things like this happen in your life. It reminds me of January when Alan died – they were awful sad days filled to the brim with emotion and sadness and ugly, confronting GRIEF. And yet they were the sweetest days I can ever remember in my life. Some of the funniest and the sweetest I have ever known. Packed to the brim with love and kindness and empathy and the very essence of what is important in life. A little like these strange days – lonely and worrying and beautiful and filled with what is important in life. Bittersweet.

Good luck in the next stage friends, as we head back out into the world, letting go of our safety nets a little, casting them out back into that big unknown out there. Watching for the thing that we cannot see. Stay well, stay safe, hold onto the quiet moments when they come and try not to rush too much back into the worlds we once knew.


  1. I feel your pain it’s not easy …my both boys has no school anymore since halfway march and it’s until they start in September for new school year …5 months they will be home ….and all at the moment I have more work than ever as a assistant nurse …still in the fire line . I’ve been tested already 2 times thx god still negative…

  2. Beautiful words and so relatable for many of us as we navigate our way out from the safety of our cocoons.

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