Lesson 39: Life in a picture frame

Imagine your life in a picture frame. I see myself in this frame and the people that I love. There are things that we have done together. There is a blue hue of sadness on the edges, but we are surrounded by colour and happiness too. Most of it is warm with the good things. The choices we have made. Inside this frame is everything that has happened. Somewhere is Sue and Gilly. Somewhere is Whaley Bridge Primary School. There are my friends and my grandchildren. Somewhere in my picture is surely, Airedale, my first and only dog. He was such a lovely boy.

“Is there any anger in your picture?” my grandson asks abruptly.

I think this is a strange question, but he persists. I can’t see any. I don’t think at least.

“Why do you ask?”

“Because I see so little of that in you, and so much of it in others,” he replies. I think some more.

Anger was an infrequent guest in my life. As I search through the messy memories, only jumbled sparks of annoyance present themselves. On one occasion, our neighbour, Aspidistra Waterhouse had pulled her dustbin across my father’s lawn. It had torn a groove into the grass and to make matters worse, she continued this strange practice until one week my father could take it no more.

“Aspidistra, would you mind not pulling your dustbin across the grass,” he had asked quietly and politely. This was as angry as I had seen him.

“Why?” she had asked. “It’s quicker for me.”

“It's damaging the lawn,” my father replied, pointing at the gouge. “Please don’t.” The next week she pulled her dustbin across my father’s lawn once again. 

By the following week, the dustbin had disappeared.

“Where’s my dustbin Bert?” she’d asked looking rather cross.

My father said he didn’t know. I think he did.

She had been angry about that.

Stealing dustbins aside, the men in my life were peaceful people. I only saw Harold angry once and even then, at an animal, rather than a person. A grandchild had decided to let Spike the cat out of his crate while we drove to the Lake District. The cat decided first to climb onto his shoulder while he was speeding along the motorway and then in an act of incredible feline daring, chose to walk back and forth across the dashboard provocatively flicking his tail at the apoplectic driver.

“For goodness sake, we’ll crash.”

“Get hold of that thing,” Harold had yelled, which we would have done if we were not too busy laughing.

No. There is no real confrontation. I don’t think confrontation is good for anyone.

My grandson seems appeased, or possibly disappointed. Maybe he hoped that there would be one more story. One more thing that we hadn’t discussed on this odyssey. He changes the subject. 

“What are the main things in your picture frame then?” 

I close my eyes.

This is easier. Company, I think. People. So many people visit my house and share their stories with me. I love each and every one of them. My grandchildren are in it. My great-granddaughter is singing on the phone with me. Tessa is calling me from London. Gilly. All over my picture are the beautiful people who have formed the tapestry of my life. So many. Loving them, and them loving me in return pushes all the other things to the periphery. My life and everything that matters boils down to one simple truth. One thing.

Just one.

Here it is.

The simple act…of loving other people.

Lesson 40: Epilogue, Friday December 8th