Tuesday, 9 November 2010
For three hours on a Saturday morning, I escape.
I leave the house alone and I drive into town without feeling any compulsion to talk aloud or sing. I park the car without worrying whether there's space to disentangle a baby from a car seat, and I run quickly down the street just because I can.
I walk into the little room behind the gallery feeling lighter than I ever have done in my life and I greet the group assembled there without anyone calling me 'John's mummy' or greeting me in an unusually high-pitched voice.
It's just three hours in a week but I leave feeling refreshed and fulfilled, calm and contented and I rush home as fast as I can because it's been three hours since I held my baby, and suddenly I miss him terribly.