I woke with a start, just approximately four hours after finally drifting off to sleep. Blurry-eyed, aching head and wanting to chuck my tablet across the room as its alarm cheerfully announced morning!!!!! I had had a fitting breakfast of two plums and mayonnaise on toast at about 4am as one does. Well, I knew I wouldn’t get time this morning. We (myself and my love, Jesse) were watching Charite’ on the netbox thingy. (We do this by first trying to find something we both have. America and GB have different programmes. Who knew?) This is frustrating as there’s so much we would love to watch together. But once we have found that rare of finds, something we both like and in both netbox flixy thingys, we then do a countdown so the programme starts at the exact same time. We now are experts and have this down to a science. We watched two episodes, then switched to our old favourite Call the Midwife. This we fall asleep to most nights. Anyway, I don’t remember sleeping, but I presume I did at some point as that blooming alarm screamed at me. I looked across to Jesse still sound asleep. (Least that beeping overly cheerful thing hadn’t woke him.)
I gingerly put out one foot from my covers. (Arghhhhh! Cold floor! Cold floor!) Seriously, I put a bottle of peach water on the floor by my bed. It’s perfectly chilled, ready I drink. My body protests at the sudden chill and it’s all I can do to drag myself out of those finally warm covers to start my day, creeping slowly as the floorboards in this old house think they are a crusty old butler… have to announce my every move. But I manage to get to the door without too much noise and suffering too much hypothermia. I have a ten-thirty appointment with my therapist down at my local cafe, so I suppose I had better make myself look semi-human or represent one anyhow.
I manage to wash up without too much of a to-do. I look in the mirror and see myself… dark circles, red lines in my eyes, and some mayo in my hair. (Well, it’s supposed to be good for hair isn’t it?) After convincing myself that really is what I look like and someone’s not playing an evil prank on me each morning , I crawl back upstairs to do the best to cover up those dark circles. (Didn’t have much luck, by the way.) I did a rush makeup job as it had gone ten and I hate being late. I threw on clothes. They were slightly damp, no thanks to what’s laughingly called the washer/dryer. (It hates me. No, it really does!)
I already had the feeling from the dark appearance emanating from the windows that it was raining yet again, Lincolnshire being the rain capital of the world at the moment. I grabbed my brolly (umbrella) and rushed out into the cool November morn. For some unknown reason I was convinced it was Saturday. (Well, it looks and feels like a Saturday!) I don’t really know what a Saturday looks like but you get my meaning, right? If anyone does, by the way, photographs would be appreciated. My legs immediately protest at this early morning assault on their usual resting period. I try to walk with purpose to convince them and me we are okay or at least conscious. I near the first corner. Now take into account i’m only just out of bed and not sure that I’m even awake yet, but for someone still running sleep out my eyes, I stop at the corner to let traffic go. (This, I’m convinced, is a good idea if one doesn’t want to end up squished.) Just as I get to the corner, a white van decides the road is a dangerous place to drive and half on the pavement it takes off the complete corner. How or what moved me at that exact moment I will never know, but a millisecond later and I wouldn’t be cursing this stupid tablet for adding capital letters where I don’t want them. I saw life flash before my sleepy eyes, said a few expletives, shrugged and carried on to my cafe where I prayed they had my coffee. (And large vats of it.)
I walked through the doors, looked about myself, just hoping that all the cozy sofas were not taken. I will put up with a table, but I just love plopping down in my corner to slowly come too away from people who might want to talk. And having just done the walking thing, talking, hmmm… nah! It was too early. I sat leaving my brolly hooked on a highchair that sat beside me. I had been there ten minutes when Catie, my therapist, arrived. She looked far too bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, I decided, but greeted her with my best plastered on smile. She went straight up and got coffee. ( I think she took one look at my face and thought ‘Yup, coffee!!!!!!’. We talked about my week and decided, yes, I had indeed made it through another by the will of God, the fairies, ancestors and a bit of myself. It wasn’t easy, believe me. LOL But here we were. I sipped the hot caffeine-soaked brew, it slowly reaching my head and clearing away the endless cobwebs, cotton wool and left over Halloween stuff. We talked of my depression that hit hard this week, not helped by a few things that cropped up in the week or the fact this time last year, I was with Jesse and his dog Cumzi.
Yes, this time last year I was having a ball with my love… newly engaged and meeting his lovely family for Thanksgiving dinner. (My first ever.) All week I had struggled to keep going about my usual routine. I had sat outside the church a few times. I find some comfort in this but as I sat I realized just how isolated and alone I had become. I have Jesse, my daughter… but even so, they aren’t here or me there. These dark, dull days brought my mood low. I couldn’t help but compare it to last year, waking up in my darlings arms, visiting friends, family… a whole new life. The food! Ohhhhhh the food!!!! Aunt Jean and Jesse’s cousins do not scrimp on the food. Believe me, even for a foody such as myself, it’s more food than any soul can eat. (Although myself and Jesse do them justice.) The tables fairly groan under the weight and my eyes didn’t know where to look first. .After we sat, tummy extended, trousers straining, and not thinking we could eat another mouthful, Aunt Jean says “Pie anyone?” Okay, so it would be rude not to try, right? It’s custom, I’m sure, and you can’t break with tradition. I swallow my cold root beer in hopes that it might wash down the mix of turkey and delicious dinner rolls, stuffing and green bean casserole, but I ate the delicious sweet confection that is pecan pie. The whole family repair to the sofas where I sat in silent bemused awe as his family talked fondly of those that couldn’t be with them: Jesse’s mother, their dad, husband. For once I was quiet. Cousin Mike ( I hope you don’t mind me adopting you, Mike!) told tales that had us all enraptured, and we laughed till we cried. This dear, sweet family showed my something I had missed… longed for all my life. This was a real family.
They didn’t isolate one. They never picked on one (all I’ve ever known), they never left anyone out, including me. I was welcomed with such warmth, I truly felt at home, I truly belonged with them to them for that moment in time. I fell in love not only with Jesse but his entire family. So, yes, coming back to this year who can blame me for feeling homesick for my American family and friends. It’s been a God-awful week if I’m honest. As Jesse readies himself to join them I can’t help but wish I was there to share their festivities and joyful day, but here I was in cold wet England on a THURSDAY!!!! (not Saturday), drinking Americano coffee with a skinny vanilla shot, in a now Narnia-themed March Hare cafe. Talk about confused! Noise and excitement went on around me. Decorations, twinkling lights on the Christmas tree… but I wanted to be miles away. The strong double shot coffee did it’s trick though and Catie left me to have another, which I needed and, yes, by the time I drained my large mixing bowl sized cup I felt semi-awake and part human. I actually spoke to the staff. I peopled. (Get me, folks!)
I don’t miss Jesse any less. Christmas is going to be so damn hard on me. I’m hating the mere thought of it. I won’t to go to sleep and wake up when it’s over. But, this said, in the true spirit of Thanksgiving, I have to thank the heavens, God and anything you believe in for the night my sweet man came into my life, saved my life and brought a wealth of love and joy with him. He also gave me a family, a real family, so even though I can’t be with them I’m thankful they are in my life. I love you, Jesse Cole, more with each day. True only to you, my darling xx
My American Man In Purple Lace Corsets 