I have collected so much stuff in the 16 years I have been living here that when I said last week that I have made about a hundred trips to the dump, although I was exaggerating, it can’t be far off.
The guys there say hello to me now when I drive in. one of them even asked how the move was going today.
As I said to him, it’s OK. The rooms have all been sorted out – unwanted furniture has been collected or is in the process of being auctioned. (That makes me sound very grand doesn’t it- auctioned. Truthfully there are two bits which might be depending on the auctioneer’s appraisal).
The removal van booking has turned out to be trickier than first anticipated. Story of your life Mum, eldest said. Yes love. And thanks btw. He laughed.
And then there is butterfly woman (another story).
Otherwise, the week has been dominated by the one thing I cannot do any kind of literary justice to – and I have tried umpteen times these past few days.
Middlest has left home.
How can I describe this- you could call it a life event- but it is more than that. Watching her grow, helping her develop, laughing with her, playing together, singing dancing- lots of all of it. Crying and very little arguing.
The week went by as most weeks have done, and I didn’t plan anything as I kept reminding myself, she is just moving across town E she is not moving to the moon. You will still see her most days. Which is true but it didn’t stop the very real sense of loss I was experiencing mounting .The tears arriving at mostly private moments. Apart from when I stood at the till in Tesco’s express and wept , bystanders perhaps wondering why the lady with the milk and fruit was crying, at the request for £4.35 for her four items. I scuttled out , items piled up in my arms unable to wipe my face, just wanting to get to the house that is slowly emptying itself of objects and people.
The next two days we spent together as we usually would except, we really ramped up the kitchen dancing – very good, including the Stone Roses, Alpha beat, Taylor Swift and OMD. Moderated by smallest, I won the final dance off. We sang louder than ever to whatever came on or didn’t come on but came into our heads and drank an extraordinary amount of Yorkshire tea while telling stories about our days.
Oh and we watched Ghosts – of course.
We also cried to each other and said our respective goodbyes – firstly when we stood in the kitchen making tea and chatting about Brian Wilson. We had listened to Lauren Laverne in conversation on BBC Radio 6 music, with another presenter, which was followed by six of the best Brian Wilson songs. One of which was god only knows.
And we busied ourselves, I was sorting something in the fridge and she was squeezing the life out of the tea bags , our backs to each other and I thought god I’m going to cry and as I did I turned to see her already crying, and we just cuddled.
I said thank you then, for allowing me to be her mum and she said “good Mumming”.
Because that’s how I see it- your children either allow you to parent them or they can if they choose turn the other way.
Then, yesterday I said cheerio to her in her new home. We hugged and she said Thank-you, thank you , thank you and I said it had been a pleasure. Because it has been.
And tonight I stood in her room and thought bloody hell.
21 years.
