After I dropped Celeste at school yesterday, I took my usual route home round the fields with the dogs and met a heavily pregnant lady walking the other way. We chatted about overdue prenancies then parted, at which point I burst into tears. I couldn’t make sense of it until I realised that sixteen years ago, that was me. Juliette had been due the same day.
It still seems to happen to me, even after all this time. In the run up to birthdays and anniversaries something innocuous will trigger an uprush of emotion, and yet I’m not actually focussing on what time of year it is. It’s a funny thing, the subconscious.
There were tears again this morning. Steph’s been away in Germany for three days, and I was just so happy to wake up beside him. I know it’s soppy, and not the way I usually am, but I guess the self-protective layers are just a little thinner sometimes.
I have other reasons to be emotional at the moment. On Tuesday, Juliette’s birthday, I will be going to meet people connected with the new job I start properly after Easter. On the 26th March last year I spent the day cover teaching at our local prison for the first time. I had an exhilerating twelve months but sadly, the prison is now closing. This new job is the work I’ve dreamed of doing and I feel incredibly lucky, but a little scared too.
I’m trying to find it symbolic that these exciting first steps seem to happen on Juliette’s birthday. Juliette wasn’t afraid of anything. Lots of things frighten me, but I think of Juliette and her fearlessness, and have no more excuses.