Our Saturday was mostly spent getting all our figures out and having the build able monster pieces (not Lego but kinda like Bionicle, but not) form three aliens who come through a portal to wreak havoc. Hours were lost this way and he grumbled when it was time for him to return home.
He's here for a day longer next weekend and that'll be nicer. Although he is away with his mum the week days following.
I have dropped my son off and am parked in my growing up home village of Cullingworth where I spent my first 21 years. I'm sat in a newly constructed (to me anyway) piece of car park down by a stream known As The Dell.
We spent hours down there as kids. Many memories flood back to walking the footpath many times on different adventures in my life. I wish I could get out and revisit 'my thinking tree' but I'm afraid of what thoughts that would bring up. I always feel 'weak' after dropping my son off and the prospect of a family get together usually brings a punch in the gut from at least one barbed comment and I'm not sure I'm up to it.
My best option is to know before going in that these people are just a random set of people with different outlooks and opinions to me and there's no predetermined 'understanding' to speak of. They don't have to care about me or my son or any damn thing that I believe they automatically should really.
We are all free spirits whose lives intersect more often than other people we regularly meet with.
Mine is an Independent path which I only have to seek judgement over from my son.
If he's happy, I'm happy. And I can honestly say, he is happy.
So allow others to mistakenly offend me and I no doubt offend them.
Even at 39 I can see how the geography of my hone village has transformed. Memories are not a physical thing, just a view of thought.
Nothing stays the same. We are hurtling through space at all times and the clock is ticking for each one of us. There's no fighting it so make the best of this evening or any other.
And with that..... I set off to see my family.
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