Today, I took my first trip out in a car for three months. Three long months. Or 88 days to be precise. Not really that long in an average adult’s lifetime. I was pregnant for three times this period! Twice! The days now seem to blur seamlessly one into another. There’s nothing in the diary to count down to and no timetable, other than on work days.
The countryside verges looked overgrown to me and a little neglected. Maybe it’s always looked like that in the Summer months? For weeks, I’ve pounded the pavement or the cycle paths for my daily exercise. These routes are now well trodden and I couldn’t wait to look at a wider, more open space.
We parked up at a quiet spot with a lovely view. There was a long bench nearby to sit on, with room enough for the three of us. I turned to my son and said,
“It’s okay. We’re one household, so we can sit there”.
He corrected me.
“We’re not allowed to sit on benches yet. Only for a short rest”.
I agreed, then I thought to myself how our discussion, those words didn’t even seem strange anymore.
But, if I went back in time, about a year, I would find myself in roughly the same place. How weird it would seem then!
How much life has changed. In 88 days.