COLOUR
Today the world was mono chrome. I had got up early to get Dash the dog ready for his day out and, while I waited, watched the view through the windows.
We have big windows in the sitting room and if you are lying on the couch all you can see is the sky and the trees; a lattice of pattern. Towards the right, a mass of ivy where that particular tree stretches out of vision but centre stage; a huge tree. All I know is that it is a deciduous one; that in the summer, it is a vision of green but in winter its branches spread in complicated and absorbing lines everywhere I can see.
Today I was up at the same time that the rooks that live across the road also wake up. For an hour or so every day their cawing and calling reaches into the houses, way above the sound of early morning television. For a brief moment I wondered what I would figure out as they hopped from branch to branch, I hoped I would somehow work out what they were up to (an instant naturalist!). I have to admit I am not that clever or patient or curious enough for things like that ! They hopped from branch to branch, flew a few feet and settled again. There would be groups of them all together which would then take flight and disappear off only, it seemed, to come back again. Or that is how I saw it. A group of birds would leave; sometimes in couples but more often as a bunch and away they would go, only a few moments later for another group to fly back from another direction and settle where they were previously. At one point the big tree was empty of birds and the sound had died down but that seemed to signal that the birds from the ivy covered tree could now fly from that to the big tree and repeat the process. Finally, in the space of what seemed a few seconds, the calling of the birds stopped and all but a couple of rooks had left and the trees were left still and silent apart from the occasional sparrow or pigeon. They will be back in the evening presumably doing much the same in reverse.
There is such vibrancy to these birds and though the branches were stark and the birds are dark they seem to bring bright colour to the day. I thought of that as Wendy appeared downstairs, ready for her coffee and scrambled eggs, still sleepy but awake enough for a kiss and a conversation which also seemed to be about colour.
We talked about children who seem, for whatever reason, maybe because they are home schooled or because they move house a lot, to grow up quickly and seem somehow, to be much better at communicating than their peers and we talked about how people have to adapt to the world, and how they strain to succeed in so many ways in life. We talked about how the aim of life can be all about something material, about success or impact, or the ability to charm or climb a mountain or travel to exotic slightly edgy places. We talked about the need to prove yourself to yourself and those around you and the pressure that puts on you.
And then we talked about what I still think of as colour. Those times when you are safe enough with yourself to say and be whatever you want to be; where you can be silly, where you can say all the things you would not dare to do in society; where you can laugh and cuddle and tickle and dance with the freedom of being you. Where achievement is as distant in your mind as concrete is from a flower. We talked of how the children find this sometimes when they are not with adults but with their peers who they have grown up with and who they can relax into the love of just being themselves with.
We talked of that program ‘After life’ and the beautiful scraps of film of two people delighting in each other’s company; how Ricky Gervais, had brought the colour and delight of love to life in drama. As we talked of that I remembered that lovely feeling last night, when lying on the couch with Wendy, while watching the program; thinking to myself;
‘This really is what love is about.’
I looked across at Wendy who uses her phone to distract herself from the sadder bits of the film and couldn’t think of anyone I would want to spend my time with more than her or any situation that could be nicer; just the feeling of quiet joy at being together in the evening; knowing shortly, I would wander off to bed to my book, my Instagram and sleep and as usual some very weird dreams where I often meet people who are no longer alive.
We also talked about me; Wendy asked if I had ever been as safe and secure as she and the children were; to be ridiculous, to say whatever they felt like saying without even the hint of a thought that that could lead to rejection and distance. I had to confess I could vaguely remember times like that, that I knew what they were like but no, I still monitored whatever I said and did. I still didn’t think I would ever dance or sing or swear, but yes I could remember small scraps of time when I felt truly real, brimming with life and colour, just vibrant; thrilled with the world.
Somehow that was ok. Somehow my absence is still ok. I don’t understand it. I have no choice about it but the people around me do. I am delighted that they accept me and don’t seem inclined to discard me like some faulty toy.
Just before I came up here, I wandered into the kitchen where we have put the daffodils in the stained glass vase that has a slow leak and took a photo of them; the smell of them, that brightness of their green stems and brilliant yellow flowers. It delighted me. I know I could have been colourful like them; like Wendy. Maybe one day I will be but I think more likely people in my family will regard me affectionately as some sort of old and shaggy dog that sleeps a lot, who soon, will creak as he walks and pant on the hills and yet who is deeply loved but will never bounce or do the sort of high stepping dance of his paws or wriggling on his back in ecstasy that our very own Dash the dog does. But who is as important to the family as anyone else; good for cuddling, teasing and knowing that when I am being human I am fine to remember to do the shopping and put the bins out on time.
This feeling of being loved when I struggle to know I feel. This feeling of being seen when I feel I live behind a screen. This feeling of joy when so much of my life has been and is about the darkness so many people would do anything to avoid. I don’t know how it happened but, as with my Instagram posts, my final hashtag is #blessed.
(Photos - outside the house and daffoldils - feb 2022)
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