My diabetes, type 2 (doesn’t exist, is a possibility looming on the horizon), blog and diet has failed against my son’s accident a broken clavicle on the eve of his wedding, his wedding, and then the death of a loved family member.
life goes on.
We navigate our relationships as we live our lives, they intersect and then like trains, veer off in new directions, our diets occupy a small aspect of our existence unless we are able to make them a large part of the whole, and in the way I used to from the age of 19 when I bought my first house, to perhaps 30 when I realised that cooking home-cooked food all the time was eating into the possibilites of spending time doing other things with my then three children; there were outings to arrange, clubs to take them to, ballets and shows to attend, and parties to arrange.
We imagine we know a person, but must admit that what we know is our version of them, based on our experience of them, which is always different from anybody else’s. A person cannot be trapped in time. If this were possible then perhaps we could keep the best version of them for ourselves; when we were sat with them around a game of scrabble, or pushing us along on a bike, perhaps swinging us around in a swimming pool with a noodle, or plaiting their hair for their ballet performance.