When this happens I often find myself taking a moment to stand in the street and take it all in. There’s something about being still in the middle of a road that feels almost rebellious to me (we always hurry across a road don’t we? So stopping feels somehow dangerous). There is a chill in the air that signifies the onset of Autumn, and a sheen of condensation lines my windscreen. I throw my gym bag onto the front seat and zip my hoody closer to my neck. This morning I’m not leaving a sleeping husband in bed – Tom is away with work for the week, which adds somehow to the stillness of it all. I know that Bodhi dog will have climbed back into his bed and the house will fall once again silent, with only my leftover green tea cup and the strewn bedcovers to signify my presence this morning.
This isn’t a complaint, or a whinge – I think that as you get older, the nature of relationships change so much. And I am guilty myself of living in a bubble and not thinking of others as often as I should. I also pride myself on being a very independent person and so I don't always share when things are tough for me, or when my internal monologue is building something up to be a 'big deal' to the extent that it's all I can think about. So it's certainly not a criticism of my friends, so many of whom are incredibly thoughtful. It's just that, I noticed that in that moment I felt incredibly alone in a way that I haven't for some time. I watched the marmalade tinged sky grow smaller in my rear view mirror and turned up the heaters in my car. Sometimes you don't even know how you feel until nature shows it to you. Against the hugeness of that sky and the world turning even when everything else is still, I felt very small.