I lie in bed and listen to the rain thrumming on the campervan roof. I can't sleep. Parked in the courtyard next to the crumbling old farmhouse with the red door. It's country-night-black and the last of the sweet apple scent blows through the open window. It's been two years since the lump, the surgery, the radio and chemotherapy. There's been disbelief and denial .... it's the will to live you see. Somewhere there's acceptance. You told me to get on with things, that you're not going to die. Lying here wrapped up in my blanket of solitude, the thought of it still makes me catch my breath. I always thought it would be me, it never crossed my mind that it would be you, my love. I listen to your breathing. With your heavy arm across my waist you hold me .... remember, remember, this is now ....
Remember, remember, this is now, and now, and now. Live it, feel it, cling to it. I want to become acutely aware of all I've taken for granted. Sylvia Plath.
Painting: Small family in shadow by St. Michael's Mounthttp://www.melaniemcdonald.co.uk/gallery_paintings-of-st-ives-and-penzance_189.htm