Archive for the 'WalksFarWoman' Category
June, 2007
I had been summoned to Barnyard’s and that only meant one thing - fun and laughter with precious friends.
This time it was a relaxing barbecue hosted by my timeless friend Dorothy as a celebration for her youngest son who was leaving home for a life of independent bliss. David had grown into a fine young man, the image of his mother. Thanks to her devoted teaching and the encouragement and support of a loving family he had excelled at his designer studies and made us all very proud. At first appearance you’d believe him to be quiet. Yet beneath the pensive smile was a fascinating intellect and a devilishly captivating humour that always made you feel as if he genuinely enjoyed your company. I would miss him dearly but I knew that he‘d always be a constant in everyone‘s life. He was just made that way.
The day was cloudless and warm and as I approached the turn off I caught glimpses of the house framed by the gaps in the hedgerow. The fallow fields had been given over to meadow just as Dorothy had always wanted and it looked as if her front garden now stretched for miles in languished splendour. Elegant red poppies and fresh faced blue cornflowers straddled the gentle breeze swaying in mesmerizing unison. Yellow cowslips en mass and dainty pink knapweed, complimented the scene making it reminiscent of a Monet masterpiece that fetched your heart into the canvas and made you follow it. It was going to be a perfect day.
September, 2005
It’s early evening on a busy London thoroughfare; a man lies face down by a park gate. Crowds of people pass within feet of him. To some he is invisible whilst others jeer him for being so drunk - but no one stopped. A youth on his way to a date leans over him, talking to him quietly and patiently, finally realises the man was not drunk but had been stabbed. He took off his new jacket using it to stem the blood flow and called for help. The man was discovered in the nick of time and survived.
Dorothy had always hankered after a career; she had a brilliant business brain and had qualified as an auditor but decided to put it on hold to raise her first born son. He had been a difficult birth and grouchy baby but she was patient and loving. Still, that didn’t stop her heaving a sigh of relief as she enrolled him into playgroup.
Fate would have her way and just a few weeks later Dorothy was pregnant once again. Another difficult birth ensued, her second son, a breech baby almost died but happily recovered and once again Dorothy resigned herself to be a stay-at-home mum, a role she thoroughly enjoyed.
This time, I used to hear her say, “I’ll get on that career ladder!!”
As the months turned into years, son number 2 was safely at playschool and Dorothy prepared to enroll in refresher courses, buy the business suit and add a much needed income to the household budget.
May, 2006
A young man hurries to a poorly lit bus station eager to catch the last bus back to his Halls of Residence. As he turns the corner he is horrified to find a man beating his girlfriend to within an inch of her life - without thought of danger he pounces on the attacker who turns and flees. The woman is in a bad way; luckily he manages to hail a passing cab and takes her to the safety of a hospital. The woman made a slow but otherwise full recovery.
Turning up the long tree lined drive, for some reason Henry Fonda came to mind. I pictured him in the Grapes of Wrath loading all his belongings onto a truck and looking forlornly at his home as he set off to find work during the great depression - and there I had it, the great depression. It was a link to thoughts of Dorothy and her time of morose self loathing all those years ago.
If I look back 20 years I can still vividly recall the disheveled Dorothy that stood on my doorstep. Even though we were good friends she looked like a stranger, her sanity had temporarily abandoned her and she was going into complete shutdown.
Dorothy was once again pregnant but this time it had sent her into that dark, solitary, airless place, that foul smelling place that taints your soul and blinds you from all reason. We talked and talked all that day, she opened up like a burst water pipe at the relief of being able to express her disappointment, one she wouldn’t share with her loving husband as she didn’t want him to feel the guilt of their ‘mistake’ and the desperation that was driving her over the edge. I can still feel the tremors reverberate through my body as she confided in me that earlier in the day she had been seconds away from walking in front of a bus.
“How would that driver have felt?” I raged at her, temporarily disappointed that my friend could contemplate such an awful act but then I remembered my own really low points and how hard it is to claw your way out of those dark, dank pits of isolation.
“The only other option,” she concluded through floods of tears “…is a termination…”
There, she had finally said it out loud; the situation was now real whereas before it had been a bad dream, a ghoulish nightmare she wanted to go away.
Somehow, for whatever reason she didn’t mention the termination again. It was as if she had finally reached the point of acceptance, one that would have us move forward into a half light. There was no clear path but a realisation of where you were and where you could go.
February, 2007
At a quiet junction a pedestrian stops as a motorcycle approaches at high speed. He raises his hands to his face in horror as the cyclist loses control and crashes into a wall. The onlooker knows exactly what to do because he’s had first aid training. The biker thrashes about in excruciating pain. The pedestrian calms the struggling man while he calls for help on his cell phone. The cyclist had broken his neck as well as other serious injuries - after many surgeries and long months of therapy he was able to resume his life.
The pregnancy seemed long and very quiet. She did everything expectant mothers were supposed to do but there was no bloom or spark or conversation about babies. Her adoring husband worked tirelessly to keep stress to a minimum and finally this little bundle named David was born - and the silence continued.
After a few weeks she was back on the doorstep, a vulnerable, trembling Dorothy holding her babe in arms as if it belonged to someone else. There was an eerie silence broken by a strangled cry…
“I’m frightened to love him,” she wept. “I have been so bad I fear god will take him back!” Her face looked as if it had forgotten joy of any kind.
Poor, poor woman. Hormones, situations, family, pressures - how can any mere mortal be expected to cope with all this??? I screamed in shocked silence.
Putting one arm around her and cradling David with the other I stated the obvious.
“Dorothy, he’s here now, a precious human being and you must look after him just like you did his brothers. He’s a gift; he needs and deserves your care and attention but most of all he needs your love.” I falteringly added… “Whatever happens is out of our hands,” because it had to be said. “None of us know what our future is to be, we can only deal with it one day at a time.”
I looked into little David’s placid face and knew like all newborns, he was here for a reason; he had his place in this world….
And so it was, Dorothy reclaimed her natural grace and resumed her enviable skills of motherhood raising a wonderful, adoring family. Some years later she converted an outbuilding into a little farm shop where she sells her home made fare to delighted customers. Cakes, jams, preserves, free range eggs, butter and other expertly made produce, her business brain is in top gear. She graciously embraced the concept that sometimes we do not get to travel the road we desire because the manner in which we cope with life’s hard lessons often leads us to a path better suited.
You will have realised by now that the young man in the factual accounts of being in the ‘right place at the right time’ was David. Three times to my certain knowledge he has helped save a life. If David hadn’t visited us on earth, three people may have died. What a sobering thought that is; I can hardly believe it.
This example is extraordinary but all our lives are affected by many different people for a variety of reasons - however fleetingly. We all have our parts to play in the grand scheme of things. It may not be to save another but it certainly is to help as many as we can along the way, be it shelter, a shoulder to cry on or just an encouraging smile. Life really is a tapestry, full of meaning - we just need to weave a little of ourselves into the fabric. David is but a single golden thread.
© WalksFarWoman 2007