It's Been Lovely But I Have To Scream Now

It's Been Lovely But I Have To Scream Now

It has been interesting, it has been difficult and not much of the past week has been lovely, and sometimes I do want to scream but here we are.  I am as ever, at home.  Furiously Independent Son is here too and is in the garden, lying on the trampoline smoking and sunbathing with all his black clothes on.  Daughter is sunbathing on the hammock next to him in her undies, shining with well applied suncream and being grimly determined to stay there despite the cigarette smoke.  These two are not talking to each other.  It goes back a long way, and it is a shame.  Both would be very good for each other but both think the other is a ghastly mistake and should be exterminated.  They both came from me and I am very nice, but  I expect I am only very nice now that I am 50.  And exhausted.  When I was that age I was a pain in the bum.  So patience, Lady Artist, patience.  Here is the story of your youth and all its mistakes being played out before you, twice, in your two oldest children.  This, says a voice from the sky, is your next learning curve.  This, continues the voice from the heavens, is how I feel.  Up here, knowing it all and not being listened to. 

I am sitting here in the studio watching them from my window, and thinking that they are really very similar.  And that they could be so happy together once the power struggles, status stuff  and sibling rivalry has been sorted out.  

I have the Furious Son home again.  His aura is not dissimilar to broken glass.  He is avoiding any talk and avoiding any resolutions.  He is full of pain and misunderstanding.  My wider family watch us with concern, him and me.  I watch him with concern, and think that he is living two lives and that he doesn't need to.  I know what he does and where, and I am still here with my heart bigger than ever for him.  He probably does need to live divided.  Maybe this is all part of the process.  I know about living with two identities, but I only know about it because now I don't do it any more.  He is older now and things will change for him outside, but inside there is no change.  No sudden shaft of light from above that illuminates the secrets of life for him.  I know a lot but my job is to keep quiet and say as little as possible while watching like a hawk.  

I thought of many things this past week.  I thought of the madness of youth, I thought about way my mother is getting old.  I thought about people who are coming to the end of their lives and still feeling young inside.  I thought about what it is to have your life ahead of you and to be ignorant of your place in it.  I thought about myself and how I always felt an outsider.  How I had no idea of my worth when younger.  I look at my Furiously Independent Son and think that he is full of the wisdom of the planets and  stuck with the confusion and vulnerability of a small child.  

Today then.  Back to the day ahead.  I go to the Hospice to do a volunteering stint over lunch time.  I go shopping to buy food and I have a fancy to buy some clocks.  I have an Arsenal Angel to do, and then with luck, tomorrow will come and I go to London to a fancy dinner with Alan.  Over the weekend I go back to Dublin, with  Furiously Independent Son, back into the arms of Darling Dublin Friend and her husband, the Nicest Man In Ireland.  This is my  birthday present to my newly grown up son.  The Nicest Man In Ireland is taking him and me, and lots of other small kiddies and parents, camping on Saturday.  I am going for the fun of it, FIS is going for some reason I can't fathom.  A few days in Dublin will be great fun, and time spent with FIS alone is always great fun.  Even though I am embarrassing and forget to bring my caravan.

Thanks you to all of you who contacted me with kindness and love over the past week.  It means a lot to me and I am grateful for your care.  And now, if any of you want to

1. Adopt FIS
2. Take me away on a holiday to the sunshine
3. Buy all my art
4. Give FIS a job in Alaska or South Pole or The Moon

let me know.  

In the meantime

It has to be the answer.