Turning into someone else


An interesting thing is happening. I feel as though I am becoming another person. Sitting in the shop, running the shop, smiling and organising it, re-stocking and tidying is a pleasure, thus far. Unexpected but true. I like the discipline of it. I like the stillness and the separation from the usual speed and intensity of my daily routine. Lunch is still an issue, but I persuaded my husband to come and help me move the shop around yesterday and he brought me a tiffin. Great.

Otherwise, another year is nearly over and that takes me closer to 47. That occured to me yesterday. It must be strange for my mother to see me age and make her feel older. I had never really thought about it much until yesterday. I don’t really have a fear of 50, yet, but I know it is getting closer and closer and 47 is a lot closer that 46. I am white haired and have the usual lines, but I know that once I start watching my children age it will intensify my own experience of it. I think in this last year I have felt the sensation of peaking. As though now I am going down the hill, no longer up it. I have passed the half-way point in my life. I always felt I will live to be very old, so 46 seems about half way. That gives lots of space to do many more things. Rather an exciting thought. But I am letting go of the idea of being an undertaker. I truly cannot see myself doing it, which is sad, as it has facinated me for years. But there are other, brighter things still waiting to be explored.