Decompression

Half-way through the morning, I start thinking of old slights. It’s not my habit to bear grudges, or to brood on other people’s sins of omission, so when I do I do it with a vengeance. Last night for some reason it was the prospect of anything happening to my daughter that tormented me. I’d write it off as premenstrual except that I doubt it. It wasn’t until I found myself going out for coffee with my best friend, and realised we haven’t quite got a grip on the notion of being on holiday that it all started to make sense.

The summer stretches ahead full of possibility and potential – helped by the fact that although it’s hot it isn’t the debilitating heat that makes me want to lie in a bath of icecubes until it’s over – and I keep thinking I should have got started on it already. But the more I think about it, the more I think I need to just decompress first, and let it all go for a few days.