It’s Father’s Day today. I phoned dad at 7:45am to ask him to let me in to their house. My key wouldn’t turn in the lock. I had rung the doorbell, no response. My heart was beginning to race, but he was up and answered quickly.
Inside, it smelled normal and the radio was on. Good signs. I went through to the back room we’ve put mum’s bed. The curtains are pink and the light was soft. It’s midsummer today.
I got up at 4:20 to catch the sunrise and fit in a run before going over. The sky was blue when I left the house, but fog covered the fields on the way to Stamford. I ran up the track to Easton on the Hill, stopping to look back across the valley through the mist. I walked through Wothorpe Woods, like mum and dad have thousands of times, together. In Burghley Park, I stopped enjoying the run and started worrying about what I would find when I got to their house. How well I would cope.
I don’t know when mum woke up and I can’t ask, but the light is bright in this room – an extension to the dining room with patio doors at the foot of the bed, and a big window next to it. She had probably been awake a while. She wasn’t unhappy; she was keen to get up. We’ll need those, she said pointing to her shoes. Not just yet.
Dad was trying to help and I brushed him away while I worked. After failing for the third time to get mum to get back into bed to sit up I shouted for him to get me a clean sheet – any sheet. He returned with a duvet cover.
Sheet on, mum had a moment of clarity and shuffled up into a sitting position. I covered her legs with a dressing gown until I could change the duvet cover, and got the table in place. Dad brought the tea and toast. I opened the curtains onto the garden.
Lately, I have been listening to this song quite a bit: The Morning Fog, by Kate Bush. I think it’s about an astronaut returning to earth or something, but not for me. For me, it’s about my life right now.
The light
Begin to bleed
Begin to breathe
Begin to speak
Do you know what?
I love you better now
I am falling
Like a stone
Like a storm
Being born again
Into the sweet morning fog
Do you know what?
I love you better now
I’m falling
And I’d love to hold you now
I’ll kiss the ground
I’ll tell my mother
I’ll tell my father
I’ll tell my loved ones
I’ll tell my brothers
How much I love them
Not a Jogger 