Friday has always been my favourite workday of the week. There’s something about knowing the weekend is just around the corner that makes everything feel a little lighter.
I was looking forward to having a rest.
It was one of those beautiful winter days where the sun warmed everything just enough to make you forget how cold the season really is.
In the morning, a thick fog rolled in, and by evening it had returned, wrapping everything in that eerie silence that feels like the opening scene of a scary movie.
The other day I walked up an escalator that wasn’t working.
It didn’t seem like much at the time, just one flight of stairs. The next day, my legs were incredibly sore.
It made me realise just how inactive I’ve become over the last couple of months.
My daughter was in hospital for seven weeks, and during that time I couldn’t get to, I just haven’t done any exercise.
Who would have thought that walking up a stationary escalator would be enough to remind me how much strength I’d lost?
It sounds ridiculous, but our bodies keep the score.
They don’t care why we’ve stopped moving.
They only know that we have.
Maybe it’s a gentle reminder that I need to start rebuilding, not with anything dramatic, but with small steps.
A walk. A few stairs. A little more movement each day.
After everything that’s happened, perhaps looking after myself deserves to be somewhere on the list too.
I went to have dinner with the kids tonight.
My poor girl… I just don’t know what to say anymore.
She’s there, but she’s not.
She spends all day standing. They’ve changed the timing of her feeds, so instead of sitting down at seven, she now believes she has to wait until eight before she can sit. It’s another rule her illness has made for her, another invisible prison that makes no sense to anyone else but feels absolutely real to her.
It’s heartbreaking to watch.
Every visit seems to bring another reminder of how much this illness has taken from her.
I keep hoping to catch a glimpse of the daughter I know, and sometimes I do, but mostly I see someone trapped inside a mind that won’t let her rest.
Some days there just aren’t any answers.
There are only moments that leave you driving home with a heavy heart, wishing love alone was enough to bring someone back.
The Lady in the Back Row 