This was another very early post, written when I was wondering how it would be to leave Manchester, before the new life started for real. Funny to read it again when we have just been to Manchester and back in the past 24 hours.
Yesterday I walked through the streets where I used to live and saw some of the friends that I miss most. Today it was Queen’s Park in Rochdale and daughter and grandchildren whom I miss all the time. And now I am a world away and so happy to be home, despite the missing. When I wrote this post all those months ago, I knew how much I would miss people and yet I left, as though my life depended on it.
I remember a very dear friend, years ago, saying how it was important, or useful, to know whether a person running (self or someone else) is running to something or from something. I think about that often.
This avenue of trees in the park near our house makes me think of walking back from school with our daughter in autumn, very slowly while she looked for conkers among the fallen leaves. And even further back than that, of walking with our first dog, in the days when I didn’t know that I would have a daughter or that she would go to the school in the park.
In these last days of life in Manchester I wonder how I will feel about the place once I don’t live here any more. I’ve spent so many years grumbling, never quite felt at home or at ease. And yet, it is here that I have had most of my ‘grown-up’ life, here that I became a step-parent and a parent and came to terms, of some sort, with my own troubled childhood. I have found good friends here, got…
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