‘Good Feeling’, Violent Femmes
As our lives launch back into the maelstrom that means I have to ask ‘what day is it?’ at a frequency that would pitch me at least 20 years older than I am (in case you were wondering that’s 41. Ahem), I find myself trying to draw out the warm and fuzzies from just a fortnight ago. Which is separate to the small and buggies which also came home with us. Camp Amazing. With a title like that, if you say the Camp bit in a whisper, you’ve got it bang on.
We returned to full working weeks, therapies, carers, hospice stays, looming operations, letters and appointments that are starting to talk of organ decline. Heavy right? Not just us, the Ds, but all the people we spent the weekend with will be returning back to some or all of these. We all knew that of each other, it’s unspoken. No explanations necessary. And yet, for the weekend, we were just families.
RD had space to play, to escape to, to enjoy. DD went on her first bender- a weekend of little sleep fuelled by too many chips and e numbers. We had time to catch up, to relax, there was a bar. Routines could be relaxed. So, rather than my waffle, here’s the weekend in pictures;
So as I hit my long runs at the moment, of the type of mileage that takes up a serious amount of CBA management, I have the Violent Femmes on repeat and with each painful step I think of our family, of the other families, of the the family that have created this, and somehow the feeling stays a little longer. Although, I would like my toenail on my right foot to grow back please.
So please, donate, please.
And allow us to keep “laughing at the sunrise like he’s been up all night”