Well now Dear Reader, the end of the week cometh. The time at the moment seems to be flying by in a most unseemly way and Christmas is hurtling towards us at a startling rate. I find myself fretting about Christmas, fretting about works in the homestead and fretting about the kids.
I say kids, they are respectively 19 and 23, but that doesn’t stop me fretting about them. And they know what a fretter I can be. I tell them that it’d be worse if I didn’t care at all but I’m sure it gets on their nerves from time to time. They are both however, far too polite to tell me so! I am immensely proud of both of them and all that they have achieved but fret I still do.
So, picture Monday evening. I had forgotten my phone and got home to find a missed call from The Child. I returned the call to be told that he couldn’t speak to me but that he’d call back in 5 minutes. Two minutes later the back door opened and there he was. I hadn’t seen him for two months and I can’t begin to tell you how brilliant it was to see him. I’m sure he’s grown. We only had an hour or so with him (he was on a very flying visit) but it was wonderful to see him. We heard all (well perhaps not ALL) about university life, his friends, job and what he’s been up to. He looked really well. He’d gone for the element of surprise because he knew how thrilled I’d be. And I was.
“You see” said TG as we dropped him off at the ferry “He’s fine. I don’t know why you fret about him so much.”
Because it’s my job.