A post about nothing.
It is cold and wet which wouldn’t be significant except we’re supposed to be going on a picnic. There are other families going. I shiver and look out the window and know I want to stay at home. I’d much rather write, in the warmth of the heater, rather than be brave and go out.
I’m rather a wimp. Soft. I like my comfort.
“Sue, you have to make more effort. Get out. Meet people. Do it for the sake of your children. They need friends, even if you don’t.”
I ask Gemma-Rose, “What do you want to do today?”
Is it too late? Have I encouraged my children to be unsociable?
My world is getting smaller and smaller. I don't often see friends. Actually my world is getting bigger and bigger. I chat to so many people from around the world every day. But that doesn’t count. They’re not real friends. Or are they?
My friends whom I’ve known for years and years might be at the picnic. We really should go along and see them. Catch up. Hug. Kiss. Not let those ties between us get too loose.
I ask Sophie, “What do you want to do today?”
“Have a picnic.”
“In the rain?”
“We could have a picnic at home. I just want to eat ham and cheese and potato salad.”
I remember when our older kids were small. We’d go on picnics with other families all the time. The weather didn’t matter. Cold or hot. Dry or wet.
We’d wrap up warm and chat while jumping up and down, rubbing our hands to keep the blood flowing, our ribs aching due to excessive shivering. Or we’d languish under the shade of a tree, the heat sapping our energy, not wanting to do anything but talk. One picnic day we all got soaked to the skin because of torrential rain. Our feet squelched in wet shoes, our hair was plastered to our heads, but we keep smiling and chatting.
Sometimes we are so desperate to get together with others we will endure any conditions.
I think of the friends I would see today. I especially want to see my friend Sarah. I haven’t chatted to her in a long time.
I ask Andy, “What do you want to do today?”
I can see the answer. It’s on his desk. He has some paperwork that needs attention.
And then I think of my friends and especially Sarah.
“Do you think we should make an effort?” I ask Andy. “Perhaps we could spend a couple of hours out, catch up with everyone.”
Andy smiles. “Sure!”
“Put on some warm clothes,” I say. “We’re going on a picnic.”
The girls smile.
So we’re going out. We are taking a picnic. We are going to see old friends.
And later I will write. (Did you notice? I have almost finished my NaNoWriMo novel.)
Friends, Sarah, a picnic... I have stopped debating. We're going out. I smile too.
Why is it so difficult to make a decision sometimes?