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Simple, Slow Time

By Belinda

 We are here, and "here" is a completely different zone from "back home" on all levels. We are slowed down to STOP!:)

 We are just about recovered from our jet lag and the five of us: Mum; Rob; Paul,; a dog named Bruce, and me, are finding our routine for the next couple of weeks; settling in together in Mum's small one bedroom flat, with overflow to Rob's flat upstairs.

Each evening, once Mum is tucked in bed, Paul and I transform her sitting room into our bedroom, From two large garbage bags in a small store room come a duvet and pillows; the heavy, ornately carved wooden coffee table that once stood in my Oma's flat in Holland, is dragged across the room and the pull-out couch unfolded. The operation is repeated in reverse in the morning, before Mum's carers let themselves in at around 8.20 a.m.

Mum is blessedly well, mothering me in little ways that she can still manage. Paul and I go upstairs to Robert's  to give her privacy while the carers get her ready for bed each evening in her warm living room, then I come down first to pray with Mum before Rob puts in her eye drops. Last night her hands were tucked warmly under her duvet but she wanted to hold my cold hands to pray, and then she wrapped her soft, warm hands around mine to warm them. Today when I was getting ready to take Bruce out for a walk, and wrapping up against the freezing cold weather that we found over here, I found her with her hands inside my gloves. She was pre-warming them for me.

Such moments are worth crossing an ocean for. Simple, slow time.
Our first frosty morning here, from Mum's living room window, looking up towards Bear Hill and St. Laurence church.

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