After the Buddhist Christmas party, the Buddhist New Year party. An evening of reflection, meditation, poetry reading, sharing, wine, food, laughter, friendship. When Chris tentatively mentioned the idea a month ago, I leapt at it. ‘I’ll come, even if it’s only you me and Clare’ I said. ‘I won’t be doing anything else that night’. There were nine of us as it turned out, plus the cat, a beautiful and vocal Siamese (is there any other kind?)
It was a good evening, a positive evening, an unconventional evening. What more could you ask for? Better sober with good friends than drinking here alone. Everyone read something, I read ‘The Darkling Thrush’ (of course) and the poem by Rumi that I found on a scrap of paper and posted on Melinda. I wished I’d taken something of my own, but I told them about the blog and last year’s post. Mary read ‘Love for Love’ by Derek Walcott, I must get hold of a copy. I wasn’t clear whether the invitation extended to sleeping over or not, so I took an overnight bag in case, but at around 1:30 the party broke up. I found a text on my phone from Laura: ‘Happy New Year Mum. Love you xxx’.
I got back around 2, the house in darkness. Hubby hadn’t left the light on for me as he usually does when I’m out late, but at least he hadn’t bolted the door. I took my overnight bag into the second bathroom and unpacked my night things. And then I thought...
I went into the bedroom in the dark, got my dressing gown and the hot water bottle. I could hear his breathing, soft and regular. This is it, the voice told me, now is the time. It makes perfect sense. Why bother climbing in beside him, one more night? There’s nothing there for either of you, is there?
So I took my things into the spare room. Laid the bag on the floor. Boiled the kettle for the hot water bottle. Switched the radiator on – the heating was off, but it would be ready for morning. Looked around me. Checked the wardrobe – full of rubbish, I can sort that out, give myself some storage space in here. I need a bedside cabinet, but for now the clock can sit on the floor.
This is my room now. Why put it off any longer?
Lying in the bed, stretching out, luxuriating. The feather duvet, I will have to swap them over, this is bad for my asthma, but I can survive one night. And I’ll bring my own pillow from the other room tomorrow. But for now, it will be OK.
I woke just after 6, the cat had found her way in and was walking over me and purring. Outside the window, I could hear the fountain in the fish pond. A transit place. I won’t be here forever. But it will do for now.
It was gone 7 before I got up, even though I knew there would be no more sleep. So I did the usual things, fed the cats, put the coffee on.
I went to meditate, but the mp3 player wouldn’t switch on. Must have left it on all night, I’ll have to recharge it. Then I heard him in the kitchen.
‘I slept in the spare room. Thought that was easier than disturbing you.’
‘OK. I didn’t know what was happening so I didn’t leave the light on.’
‘That’s fine, no problem’.
So polite. We are always so civil with one another. Never any animosity.
The coffee machine gave its sudden final burst of noise and steam. I lifted the lid. Still some filtering through. He was sitting at the table eating Shredded Wheat.
‘Do you want your coffee pouring now?’
‘Yes please’.
I looked at the chair opposite him. Laura’s chair. Should I pull it out, sit down?
‘I need to talk to you today.’
‘OK’. No curiosity, no reaction.
‘Do you want to do it now, or later?’
‘Later.’
OK then. Later it is.