A big bowl of tortilla chips, cherry tomatoes, small and prickly cucumbers which the children grew. There is a plate of ham, a simple salad made from red kidney beans and chopped spring onions with sea salt, black pepper and some olive oil (I have run out of vinegar and lemon juice). There are some small baguettes, strawberries, some quartered oranges and some damsons and plums from scrumping around the neighbourhood. And the children have made a hideous, wonderful teetering chocolate cake, covered in blue icing and hundreds and thousands.
AND YET
That is a pretty picture. Actually, my forehead hurts from the anxiety induced by my constantly warring children, I am tired and I have a million things to do. And, most of all, one of the people I love most in the world has had a severe stroke and, in one day, the life of my family has changed. Just like that. But here's the thing: continue to put food on the table, lay it with mismatched plates and a pot of flowers. Or sit, if you can, amongst the bees and the flowers. Not to stretch yourself when you are already stretched, but to make something solid on which to fall back: a home; a table; good food.
Because, to quote W.H. Auden,
"Life remains a blessing
Although you cannot bless."
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