Simplicity's Gift.

Steps walked: 7984.

Furthest point travelled: 1 mile. Funeral at Edmonton Cemetery.

Face to face non-household interactions: 8.

Track of the day: ‘Changes’ – David Bowie.

            I’m seeing so many changes in my children as these long days of separation follow one on another, and another. Happily, those changes are almost entirely positive.

This morning we were doing some home-schoolwork that James was finding difficult and I could see that it was beginning to get him down a bit; when I suggested that maybe we should take a break, he protested, ‘No, let’s try one more, and I’ll get better.’ At lunchtime I made James his two slices of toast with a slice of ham on the side (nutritionists, shhh). Barnaby had a cheese and ham panini. Finally I brought my lunch to the table and sat down to eat with my boys. Just as I was about to enjoy my first mouthful, Barnaby rightly observed, ‘But Daddy, we don’t have any water.’ I can’t remember precisely what my first reaction was; maybe I groaned, maybe I frowned, maybe I rolled my eyes, and quite possibly I did all three. At once that six year-old said, ‘Don’t worry Daddy, I’ll get it, you’ve just sat down.’ Who’s the adult and who’s the child?

            The best bit of all is how well they’ve been getting on with each other. There used to be four people in this household, Stuart, Susie, James and Barnaby. Now there are just three of us, Stuart, Susie and ‘the boys’. They’ve become a single amazing unit, whether they’re wrestling, plotting, chasing, or snuggling up on the sofa to read together under the one red blanket. They’re not self-sufficient, they’re mutually-sufficient. It’s so lovely. I’m so lucky.

            It’s not that there aren’t any moments of disruption and outrage, but they’re rare tempests which subside swiftly.

            Maybe this smaller world that we’re all trying to learn to live in, simplifies relationships in a way which is good for them, for the moment. Instead of trying to figure out who they are in all sorts of different and fluid social groups, and in different contexts where expectations of behaviour vary and mutate, their shrunken world is also a simpler one for them.

            To continue growing as people they’ll have to get back out there one day into all the messiness of life’s fluidity, variations and mutations, but from where I’m sitting, for now, this simpler time appears a beautiful gift to them – a gift which they certainly seem to be enjoying and celebrating to the full.

            For me, the changes and deprivations we’re all experiencing often still feel complicated and disorientating, allowing some of my strengths to flourish, but also doing a good job of preying on my weaknesses too. Perhaps those two boys can be my teachers, and help me to see where, in this altered landscape, I too can find simplicity’s gift.