Day 114: Peaks

Got a migraine. My thoughts are all jumbled, my vision loose.

Family meal last night, Liz and Jamie and my uncle all up from London, meal at my mum's with Fran and the dog. Avocado and walnut and quinoa salad, vegetable samosas, hummus, Yorkshire pickle, cheeses, breads. Piling on helpings, buttering slices, eating far past the point of being full.

The others drinking wine, insisting on midnight adventures walking Fran and me back. Liz jogging ahead with Mission, running back, turning behind us, pushing her way back through. "Out the way, grannies, important business, we got places to be, come on." Mission wagging his tail, trotting with the funny woman, bemused at humans and wine.

This morning long walks in the Peak District. Grindleford and up to the edge, Surprise View car park, down to Padley Gorge and back through the woods to the cafe. Fran stayed at home and had a recovery day, so we took Mission and wore him out.

Stones lined with lichen and moss. The swaying of bracken. The air up on the edge clear in our lungs. Silver birch whispering. The soft sounds through the tree line. The muffled warmth of the woods. And the complexities of families. The calmness of families. Not knowing what to say. Saying nothing. Then discussing the nature of mind and of memory, discussing religion and politics, making nice small talk, then not knowing what to say. The dog limping. Liz recognising that Jamie was flagging. Everyone thinking how far to the cafe. Then arriving, and ordering, big plates of sausages and egg and chips. Yorkshire puddings large as your head. Stained mugs of tea and coffee. The dog collapsed under the bench trying to get comfortable on my coat.

Saying goodbyes to Liz and Jamie, finally home to Fran's. My migraine coming on, taking codeine and lying on the sofa, as Chris and Fran watched Orange is the New Black. Me not taking it in, then finding myself involved, then wondering if I'd been asleep.

Migraine too much to eat tea, lying with the dog massaging my temple, letting the muscles around my eyes all go loose. Letting the world wash out and out and out.

Now in bed beside Fran, as she checks in with her zombie Island, and Mission sighs at the bottom of the bed. The windows wide open, the lamplight soft and red.