Quiet place

Do you have a safe place? A place that you run to when life is cruel. A place where you go and cry and scream! A place where you won’t be heard, won’t be seen. Somewhere where you can sit with your tears and thoughts and make try and make sense of it all.

My place was always the beach, but the beach I had to make the effort to drive to it.  Screaming out to sea felt very satisfying and it was always empty.   However, the effort to get in the car and drive for twenty minutes was not as satisfying, it was work!

In the last few years I have realised that a good cure for stress is walking.  Aching legs might not sound good, but actually time alone in your own head means you can sort out and organise your thoughts.  It also means you find places that you would not find otherwise.  Beautiful idyllic places that need to be seen, photographed and shared.  It also means that things might happen, and life might take an unexpected turn.

It had been a particularly difficult day, Georgina had again flounced out of the house yelling, and James had yelled at me as apparently our teenager’s mood is my fault.  Stepping out of the house slamming the door behind me as loud as possible I sighed heavily as I realised it was raining, too late to return for my coat as would take away from my dramatic exit.  I wanted an apology or concern; however, I knew I would not get that.

Walking down the close I played the events in my head, words that should not have been said and then worries for my fourteen year old.  James I knew could never understand the working of the female brain. Influences of other children are not always helpful, and she prefers to listen to the advice of her friends rather than her mum.  Does that sound familiar? We have all been there, as a child and then as a parent.

Walking

As I walked, I churned my thoughts round and cried, that’s something I am good at and no, no call from James or Georgina, no concern. Georginas phone was going straight to voice mail and all messages from me ignored.

Noticing a public footpath, I took it, get away from the main road and the traffic. As the path turned to mud and then lush grass my mood shifted. It lightened were things really bad? If Georgina is with friends she is not alone, even if they are giving bad advice.

Crossing a wooden bridge I entered a field. I admired the pretty flowers, natures beauty, I could smell their sweet fragrance. It was now I saw something. I replayed my latest row with Georgina. Something about a boy, she has always been one for lost souls, but this was something else.   It was in this instant that I learnt when your teenage daughter is screaming at you, listen.  Don’t go jumping to crazy conclusions like me.

There sat under a tree was an elderly man, a small child with what looked like my favourite warm blanket and a rather large dog.  Surrounding them were a group of girls and there was Georgina.

“Mum, I’ve found a boy, can he move in? can he live with us?”

“Me, no Georgina” – and on and on..

She hadn’t elaborated with old man, lost child and their dog.

 The child

“Georgina when did you find them?”

Putting my arms around the child, I could feel him shivering.

“What’s your name? and how old are you?”

The boy didn’t reply.

“Mum, can they live with us?”

“Girls can you all help me here, we need to get them and the dog home, they are frozen”

I looked at the elderly man, and asked if he was okay.  He did not reply, maybe he doesn’t understand English or maybe he isn’t well.

They were both very dirty, and I could see the girls had been bringing them food. They had also made a makeshift hut out of branches to try and give them shelter and the dog, a white husky had provided protection.

Now phoning James I had to give in to defeat, we needed the car.

Conclusions

An hour later we were back home. James was phoning the police, and the boy was eating but still not talking.  The girls had learnt to tell the full story to a parent who is not listening properly, and I had learnt to not jump to daft conclusions.

It now evolved that the child had been lost in the woods for two days with his grandfather who was struggling with early-stage dementia. They had wandered off while being watched by a rather irresponsible child minder.  James’s parents were fearing the worst, and no one had thought to check the woodland and field about an hour away from home. The walk was quite an achievement for them and having got there, they were too confused and tired to get back home.  When they met the girls, they had been grateful for their concern and food but too scared to talk to them.  The girls had tried to mother them when they should have been alerting the police and telling us the full story.   When your fourteen year asks if a boy can move in, you don’t imagine a lost six year old.

Leaving the house that day, my life changed. The small boy, Owen, and his grandfather are back safe with their family. Georgina and I have talked and made a pact to really listen to each other.  James now realises that some things in life are bigger than him and his number one priority is his family. Losing Georgina would be devasting and Owen’s parents had cried collecting him. Their relief was felt in waves.

I sometimes reflect on that day and wonder if something had guided me to that field. Maybe Georgina and I have a connection. I’m just glad that I found them, I also now have a new place to walk, just hope I don’t find any more lost children or confused elderly people.

Since that day Georgina has walked with me, we are getting on better now and listening really has helped strengthen our relationship. Rowing is hard work; quiet understanding is a lot less stressful and easier.

Written for Write the story on Writers Unite

For more see – A Spring evening by the lake – Just muddling through life