Days

It’s foolishness I know, but some days you don’t want to end or ever loose the memory of one moment of. Today has been such a day.

I remember those days when I was a kid in shorts, we’d be out at the beach for the day, it would be blazingly hot and then you were back in the car, seats so hot you were sure that you’d burn, you’d try to stay awake to hold the joy of it all, but inevitably fell asleep till we parked at home with skin still prickling and the memory of sun and the move of the waves still beneath your skin. No sense of gratitude because this was how life was meant to be, but a belief that tomorrow and tomorrow would be the same.

Life turns out different I guess but there are still days like that and with the passage of time they hold preciousness in the moment that is hard to express.

Today was one such day. After an early breakfast Matt and I hit the road to pick up Linda’s mum and mine – “the motherhood” from Garda where we had left them last Friday on our way to the Dolomites. L’s mum had said in our hearing some time ago that she’d always wanted to see the Dolomites and so the flights, chauffeuring and these few days with us were our Christmas present to them both.

We picked them up and both felt immediately that we’d walking into a scene from the Marrigold Hotel – we needed to say goodbye to Anton who’d had to translate all the menus for them and sort out wifi in their room and who knows what else, and were regaled on our journey back of tales of self portraits done trying to take scenic shots and movies when photo’s were meant on the ipad, they had stopped traffic and other tourists taken photographs of them trying to take photographs of who knows what. Two hours of stories of mirth and wonderment kept our attention til we arrived briefly at the hotel to book them in. The conversation had meant that they’d not really taken in the scenery, but as they looked out of their bedroom window, awe at the view silenced them for a couple of minutes and then Matt and I just put our arm round them, that moment alone was worth the whole cost of the holiday and more.

A lovely picnic at our swimming lake, the boys proceeded to charm them and Beth to delight them – like only grandchildren can (oh and Anton apparently!), and then I got an hour to run the forests and hills whilst they rested in the shade and the others swam, followed by a trip up in a cable car to a high place to take in the awesomeness of it all. A lovely meal just finished felt like a celebration. And now my skin prickles and the memory of the days sun sits deeper and now I’d like to stay awake to hold the joy of it all, but am inevitably falling asleep.

Days