Reid has already left for school with his mum, while Calvin sleeps on in his GCSE-free zone. Xanthe is somewhere in the house, killing time by listening to music at a volume level chosen for the purpose of agitating her younger brother. I ask Parker about his homework. He declares in a loud voice that he needs some alone time and marches out into the garden. Imogen, sitting at the table munching on her cereal, doesn’t even look up from her book.
A typical morning.
I return to the sink, where I am halfway through some washing up. There are lots of bubbles. It’s the bubbles that make things clean, after all. They form a sheet over the water, and ripple as I disturb them. The bubbles are connected to one another in a crazy patchwork, but they burst and break if pushed too far. A bit like a family, I suppose. Is God in the bubbles?
My mind is full of what’s-on-today thoughts, trying to arrange everything like a sliding puzzle with more pieces than spaces. I am weary, and not much looking forward to what is to come.
A typical morning.
I wash up a few items – those not worthy of the dishwasher. I try and identify those moments of time in the day when I can squeeze in a little more activity; some unscheduled task. It’s what I normally do, which is to try and front-load the beginning of the week, so that I can take a bit of a breather as the weekend approaches. I’m not sure how efficient or healthy it is, but it’s how I operate.
Things get washed up. I begin tidying up the mess that is caused by washing up. What a world, where cleaning stuff makes other stuff dirty. Parker comes inside, having had his ‘alone time’, and talks to me briefly about his homework. Imogen has finished her breakfast and disappeared. Xanthe’s music has gone quiet- she has relocated somewhere else in the final few minutes before she is due to leave. Calvin will not be seen for at least another hour.
The sun is somewhere out there, behind the summer clouds. The sun is always there, buried, and even weariness and dread will not quench it.
God is in the bubbles. God is in me and my family, hidden deep but true, as we go about the business of the day.
A typical morning.
