A day can take you a lot of places,
even when you don't really go anywhere at all.
Today at the bus stop I was reading a
library book my husband picked out for me. Love with a Chance of
Drowning, by Torre DeRoche is a memoir about an adventursome couple who sailed from the
USA to Australia via all sorts of Pacific Islands. I am still at the
sea-sick stages of their journey (hers not his), but even with the
graphic descriptions of ocean going illness, reading sun kissed tales
of sailing off of Mexico whilst standing at a frosty Edinburgh bus
stop with your feet freezing to the ground does make the other life
tempting.
 |
| Cover for Love with a Chance of Drowning, Torre DeRoche |
My reading was interrupted by the
arrival of a little mittened girl with her grandmother. We chatted
about the neighborhood – how great the park is, how annoying the
overflowing bins are, how great the nearby library is and how little
parking there is for locals. I told the little girl I was impressed
at her wearing her hat. My son I told her throws his off immediately.
She told me Jack Frost was here and pulled her mittens on securely.
The grandmother asked me my sons name
and when I told her she said: 'Raphael, we know Raphael don't we
Katie.'
Katie nodded enthusiastically and the
penny dropped. This was the Katie and her grandmother my husband
reported regular play times and chats with at the playground. Katie told me how Rafa likes the shute
(slide) and often has dirty knees. Katies mother does not like dirty
knees, but Rafa's mum and dad don't mind. I recalled being told that some days
Rafa plays enthusiastically with Katie, other days he ignores her in
favor of boys kicking balls. Boys will be boys. I was delighted to get this little glimpse of my boys out and about in the world and to meet some of their new friends.
The grandma and I smiled over the
coincidence of meeting in this way and agreed that we do indeed live
in a village.
My bus ride takes me out to the Royal
Edinburgh Infirmary. I don't have an appointment today, just an
errand to run. In the week before Christmas I was struck by a big
case of baby brain. I organised the baby, my husband and some friends
to attend Christmas carols only to turn up a day late, I got my work
schedule tangled up and got a call from my manager 'checking in' due
to my no show and I caught the wrong bus home and had to walk a good
distance with pre-Christmas groceries.
This was all topped on Christmas Eve
when I attended my 20 week ultrasound out at the Royal. With my
husband running a little behind, I left my phone out when the
scan began. The baby measured up against whatever measures are
important for a 20 week old bun in the oven and Jon and Rafa arrived
in time to get a glimpse of the new family member.
After the scan we headed off to do some
Christmas Eve grocery shopping and it was not until we loaded
ourselves back in the car that my brain pinged that something was
wrong. I searched through my backpack in the dark of the car for my
phone, but came up empty handed, but I reasoned, I could easily have
missed it in the miasma of my bag.
I told my husband about my suspicions
when we parked at home. He called my phone from his and we listened
to the ominous silence. Upstairs I upended the bag and found nothing.
I recalled clearly setting my phone on top of the bag on the chair
next to the scan bed in case Jon rang. Jon and Rafa had come into the semi dark room,
moved the bag to sit without seeing the phone, which had no doubt
toppled quietly to the floor. My focus was on saying hello to Rafa and on
watching the new bub bob about on the black and white screen.
When we rang the hospital someone went
on a search for us with the aid of a cleaners keys. The phone was not
in the room. It might be in the office, but it was after five on
Christmas Eve, (Wednesday) and nobody would be back until Monday. My
stupidity clanged in my head. This was my first ever grown up phone,
I had no insurance and while it was probably locked safe in a drawer,
it could be anywhere! And I could do nothing about finding it or
replacing it for four days.
 |
| Rover and Rafa on Christmas Day, Royal Mile, Edinburgh, 2014 |
This morning (Monday) I woke up with a
mission, go out to the Royal and seek out my phone. When I
laboriously checked my emails (on my computer rather than on my phone
as I am used to doing) I made a happy discovery. Along with the
fifteen junk emails from Amazon there was a note from my radiographer
to say she thought I had left my phone! I blessed her from my bed,
she needn't have tracked down my email and sent me word of my phones
safety, but she did.
My mission was successful. The world
would soon be at my fingertips once more. All I needed was a power
point to recharge the sad inanimate lump.
Returning from my late morning outing
to the hospital the bus passed though some streets still cloaked in
frost. I mused that no matter how nice the houses, living in the
shadow of Blackford Hill would not be a pleasant thing in December. I
could see the sun tinting other houses golden just over the way, but
here Jack Frost was most certainly at work.
After a bowl of soup in Morningside I
took myself to the library to catch up on my emailing and reading for
the You Won't Remember This project. I had the work of two poets
(Australian and Scottish) to read and some correspondence with
writers from India and Canada.
Spending time with the writing of
adventuresome parents tugged at me just as the sailing memoir had at
the bus stop. My life just now is exciting, but it is the suburban
parent excitement of watching Raphael get his knees dirty at the park
and of a new life growing in my belly. Life is about catching the
right bus home so I can splash with Rafa in the bath and chat with my
husband about their day, and find out if Rafa was nice to Katie.
It is good to have those adventures
tugging at me, keeping me pondering where we will spend next
Christmas.
