Layered day. Intricate layers of moments. Definite shades of rich chocolate interspersed
cream. Holidays are good. They offer time. Time to indulge. To allow spontaneity.
Holidays allow you to get people back. Momentarily. Today I got my thirteen year old son
We reconnected. Our fuses meshed. Time was in our favour. In the afternoon we took the
dog to the beach. The silver strand not far from our house. The tide was half way in and it
allowed us to walk unhindered by the shore. It was a gloriously kind day. The sun warm on our backs. The
sea, grey, sparkled. It was a stop and look kind of sea, a putting of your hand to your brow to observe, a
pause of a sea. We walked the beach, up and down, up and down, several times, the dog
running for the ball we threw for him. Then we sat up on the warm rocks that bordered the
sand. Sated. We shared a companionable silence. The dog panted and nuzzled my arm.
There was a hole in the sand and we had a long forgotten ''toss the stone in the hole
contest''. I won. I notice how my sons face had changed with the sprinkle, the promise of Summers to come.
His holds a wise countenance that I must have overlooked these past months. I see him
as for the first time. He doesn't say it
but I know he treasures our bond. He likes me.
The layers on the cake build. When we get home I dig out the food processor my mother
left to me. We make Potatoes Boulangere to go with dinner. We work in unison. Layer
after layer of potato, son taking turns to sprinkle with salt and pepper and diced
onion. Shoulder to shoulder. Splaying the stock in gentle circles. Slow, slowly, I say. No
hurry. Take your time.
Layer after layer. Measure and gauge. Take your time. That's how it goes....