It's been nearly nine years now since my husband and I ended our formal marriage. And as I sit by the window in the morning haze, listening to the peacocks and watching the recycling truck picking up the bins, the sun twinkling behind the lime tree, cup of tea by me, my lovely man asleep in our bed, I realize that in the face of this pandemic, the rest of it takes a back seat. There is no time for holding grudges, for vituperative behaviour, for regret, our only job now is to hold each other, to be kind to each other, and to move on, together. It was J's birthday yesterday and I was genuinely happy to hear his voice, full of its childlike, infectious enthusiasm, and I realize that I spent some very, very happy time with that man, that he's a good man, a genuine man, and more importantly, he did his best.
C talks about his marriage as "failed" and I have to say, I don't think there are any failed marriages, or very few. We enter into them in the right spirit, we will them to be good and strong, we spend time playing our roles, trying to do the right thing, we raise children who are strong and able and kind, we did our best. This is not failing. This is all we can do.
In the early morning light, when you first see the sun or hear the birds, set this intention: do your best, and say thank you. That is all we can do.
And if you are weary of the news and would like to hear something a little more uplifting, here are two lovely pieces from BBC World Service Outlook:
Also, I'm reading this, which is quite wonderful.
One more thing: Thistle in the buttercups yesterday.
Much love to you all, wherever you are. May you be safe and happy.