|here he is, CT|
On Friday evening as I was walking back from my friend Sophie's house - she had a jam making emergency, and needed some urgent supplies - I thought I heard a fox crying out in the dark. As I got closer to the noise, I realised that it was coming from the tree in my neighbour's garden. And it wasn't the cry of one animal, but two. I stood looking up at the tree, listening to this strange and unworldly noise. It sounded like an owl, but not the soft t'wit t'woo that I often hear. This was a guttural call. Aggressive even.
On Saturday morning, Olly and I searched the internet to find out what exactly it was that I had heard. It turns out that it was the sound of Tawny owls fighting. I had been witness to a pair of wols having a pop at each other on a Friday night. Fighting for territory perhaps? Anyway I banked this lovely experience away with all the other close ups with nature that I've had the pleasure of this year.
My blog has had scant attention lately. I have been waging war with a virus that is kind enough to let me hack and cough my way around the supermarket, but leaves me shattered and without energy or inclination by the end of the day. So, too, has the empty feeling I have felt since Sam has
left for University. It has created a space in this house. Not just in a physical sense, although it does seem strange that he no longer a perpetual fixture rummaging through the fridge. Rather I feel an absence here. The house is quieter, and I have had to get used to a different rhythm. I keep cooking too much pasta. I am really missing the way he wanders into a room, to tell me some nugget or other. 'Pig-gate' wasn't the same without Sam around. We would have had a lot of fun with that little gem.
But this weekend he informed me that he was out with 'the lads.' I nearly fell off my chair. Sam is having a great time. He is out having a ball, and loving his course. He is busy making friends, joining societies, auditioning for plays, snogging girls and winning pub quizzes. You've no idea how happy it makes me, that my terribly self conscious and unconfident son, has been embraced and is embracing his life away from home.
This weekend I moved Oliver into Sam's old bedroom. I had spent much of last week painting walls and woodwork. I spent Saturday moving Olly in. The room has been transformed from a musty teenagers room, into a bright and airy child's room. Olly loves it. After five years, I can reclaim my space in the conservatory. I'm looking forward to making it a cosy adult space once more. And Sam has a smaller -and cleaner - bedroom to come home to at Christmas.
As for my planned post about New York.....if it's okay with you I think I'd like it to remain with me, and not get written about here. I spammed Instagram with tons of pictures at the time, for sure. But my memories of it are wrapped up inexorably with Samuel. Marc and I hold it to our hearts as a precious, precious time with him. I know you will understand. Besides, how many pictures of tall buildings would you have been prepared to scroll through......
I think that the dust has started to settled here.
Thank goodness for that.