It’s times like this we miss our closest. It’s also why they also remember us and send a love message.
All these arrival are especially important as we’re missing real life people coming to stay with us.
Just two weeks ago I approached the City Corporation for permission to site the garden, the permission letter is ‘in the post.’ 🙃
is proving to be quite a challenge, partly as there is a
“paradox at the heart of the enterprise, the inevitable tension between the distance required for apprehension — for a perspective to emerge in which events can find their proper place — and the pressured immediacy of vivid narrative.” from The Art of Time in Memoir by Sven Birkets.
It’s telling a story when the trauma, the wound of: Manjula’s death, the circumstances leading up to it, the wider context and my powerlessness to act on what was happening is still very much with me and therefore makes it harsh and tender by turns. It’s necessary but hard, so the telling of the tale doesn’t progress at a speed or in ways that I’d like..
It’s about knowing when to focus-in the lens and when to pull back, with both “experience tasted and experience digested.”
In addition, I’m having to write in proper English with the handicap that I’m from Yorkshire.
Manjula, still with me, gently sighs, as she’s seen it all before.
Ani, (69) her of Bylakuppe and I, 63/64) had our vaccinations today.
The dedicated team at Apollo did their utmost and we return in one month for dose two.
All went well.
And I’ve got my first certificate
“A pair of silver anklets poured out. He lifted them against the cheek of the evening sky and he shook them to unspool their rhythmic zhan-zhan-zhan. ‘Take them with you,’ was all she said. Years later he realised what she had really given him. The sound of her feet. The preface to her movements.
As I’m now officially a writer. Ha ha. Well I have pen and a blank sheet of paper.
I spend time reading with two perspectives: firstly as the reader, I always was, appreciating the journey I’m being taken on and secondly realising more about how the writer has created and revealed their story.
I quote another book to help reveal why I like the one above.
“This feeling resonated in me. It was the resonance that had lingered on, exactly as it does when the last page is turned of a book which reaches the heart.”
I want Manjula and my story to reach the heart as it did for me.
Manjula and I had our first wedding, the official one in the government office where they exchange contracts on immovable objects. We are undoubtedly immovable objects.
I was age 60 before I got married so there was a big build up and it took some time to move in that direction.
three days later we celebrated and married again in a field
I now have to find help to create the bed and plant the plants.
Manjula’s garden will be between the two stone benches at the top end of our park.
The results are good so no need for a scan and after handing over parcels for Usha
we’re off back home.
Stopping on the way for lunch at fishland one of our favourite restaurants.
Manjula and I would have a drive through the countryside in the Ambassador drop in here for lunch after her regular visits to the clinic.
The staff asked where Madam was, I continue to share the old news which helps recognise and celebrate.