Suffer the Little Children.

I had a bad night last night. It happens occasionally. I wake up in the dark and the bedclothes feel to be in a state of disarray. And then I feel disoriented, not knowing how my body aligns with the four walls of the room. I don’t know whether I’m chilled or not because some parts of me are and some not, so I sit up and look in the direction of the panel heater under the window. If the red light is on it means that the room should at least be tolerable, and at least I know which way I’m facing. And so I pull all available fabric around my recumbent form and go back to sleep.

When I got up I felt empty inside, as I do often these days. I thought about the impending Christmas season and asked whether it was worth acknowledging. I didn’t think so, but considered the idea of buying myself a present. But what do I want? Nothing, at least nothing I can afford. And when I went out to top up the birds’ feed table, I had to remove the first ice cap of the winter from the water bowl. Winter is not a pleasant experience in this house.

I decided to go for my morning walk, and as I strode down the lane I spotted a small group approaching from the opposite direction. It turned out to be a little girl of around 2 or 3 sitting astride a small pony being led by a woman, presumably her mother. The child stared at me as the gap closed, and when they turned into Bag Lane she waved. I waved back. And then her mother waved. They walked on and then the child turned to watch me over her shoulder. She waved again, which I returned again. And her mother waved again.

A sense of some substance added itself to my perception of life, and the 2½ mile walk was navigated at a slightly brisker pace. How I have come to realise that the presence and lack of inhibition in children can be such a light in the growing darkness of the times. (And why I think of mothers as being the most important people in society.)