Thursday, 13 November
I was at the kitchen table in our little flat in Bristol, stirring a pot of vegetable soup, and the same thought kept looping in my mind: Id love, just for once, to do absolutely nothing.
Our daughter, Eleanor, comes up for the weekend every few weeks. She always manages to unwind, while I, as if on autopilot, hustle around the kitchen feeding the whole clan.
The day before her arrival and before Victor and the grandkids get here I usually give the house a thorough onceover. Guests are on the way, and Andrew, my husband, gets home late from the office, weary as ever, so the domestic load inevitably falls on me.
Sometimes, when the house feels too quiet, I ring Eleanor midweek just to hear her voice, or to ask her advice about something. It hurts a little that shes always so busy. She has a demanding job, a senior position, and shes constantly on the move. Mum, Im at work, I cant take personal calls, shell snap, If its urgent, send a text I asked you not to call! Yet Id rather hear her voice than type a message.
One afternoon I caught myself thinking that I never get a weekend where I can simply relax. Even though Andrew helps and we share many chores, there are moments when Id love to sit down to a lunch someone else has cooked. I feel as if Im retired on paper, supposed to be on welldeserved rest, but the todo list never ends.
So I thought, We should visit the kids. After chatting with Andrew, we decided to surprise Eleanor for the holidays. She seemed delighted at first.
But Eleanor, accustomed to my constant care, was taken aback when, instead of immediately pitching in, I spent the first hour chatting with the grandchildren about everything under the sun, then plonked myself in front of the television to watch a concert. She had been looking forward to the traditional festive spread my pies, my salads and suddenly I announced, Were a bit knackered, but its great were here.
Eleanors face fell, a flash of disappointment, as if I had let her down. I could see the colour drain from my own eyes; I understood her feeling.
So I finally got to rest at my daughters.
Im not the sort to sit idle; I grew up in the oldschool postwar era where, if something needed doing, it got done. Yet that night, my heart sank. Eleanor works long hours, Victor does the same, and Andrew, despite his years, is still on his feet.
I forced a smile, went back to the kitchen, and began preparing the holiday lunch. Eleanor followed, wanting to tell me more about how she felt let down. She cracked the kitchen door open, and for a split second I saw myself from the outside not the evercheerful, alwaysreadytohelp mum, but a weary, notsoyoung woman without a smile. My expression turned solemn; I hadnt realized anyone was watching, and the smile simply didnt come.
It struck me then that Im not the spry, young mum I used to be.
Eleanors chest tightened; it seemed to her that I was still as youthful as ever, and suddenly it hit her. She moved to me, hugged me, pressed a kiss to my cheek, and said, Mum, I was planning a new dish for tonight and got a bit flustered, hoping youd help. If youd rather not, thats fine well surprise everyone, you included. I even bought you some luxury skincare a face cream, a hand balm, a few other treats. Well chat more over the table and Ill show you everything. For now, enjoy the concert, Mum.
She handed me the pricey cosmetics shed bought for herself, and a sudden childlike dread washed over me: time is passing, Im aging, and we hardly get a moment together. What if Im gone? How would she manage?
Memories rushed back my own childhood, my teenage years, the day I married and soon after gave birth. Id always found time for Eleanor; her problems felt like my own. Id even taken calls late at night when she needed me, despite needing to be at work the next morning.
Hearing her words, I managed a tearful smile; the old grievances melted away, and I felt a surge of energy.
Now, whenever we meet, Eleanor doesnt pile all the chores on me. We tackle everything together, and we still find time for hearttoheart talks. She calls me during her lunch break just to hear my voice. I make sure to carve out time for her, to look after her, and I truly hope the day never comes when Im the one who wishes to call her and theres no one left to answer.
