doldrums

Life felt a bit like normal this afternoon, and I'm so sad. Normal for Toronto looks to be such a far cry from normal in Hove. On a weekday after school in Hove, I'd have come rushing from work to collect younger children at school, probably at least one of them with a friend, and then we'd all walk home to meet eldest who would have walked home on his own or in the company of classmates. The children would play (and squabble; I don't want to romanticize too much) while I snatched a few moments for a cup of tea and the newspaper before gearing up to prepare dinner. Radio 4 would keep me company and keep time. The Archers would herald husband's arrival, and the evening flurry would begin.

Today, in Toronto, I collected the eldest since he is not quite prepared for making his own way through a city of 5.5 million souls. Arriving home I was concerned to find the house dead quiet, as I expected to find husband with 2 younger children. I rang him and asked where he was. 'At home. Upstairs. In bed,' he mumbled, not feeling well. The kids were on an even higher floor. And I had thought the house was empty! It feels empty, hollow, somehow. Not full of memories and imprints of friends: not normal.

There are still so many boxes to unpack and tasks to accomplish (correcting the birthdate on my driving license for example). But when all that's finally done, when the bed is constructed and the pictures hung, we'll reach normal. And this afternoon's whiff of normal makes me want to lay my head down and cry.