Closing the Gap, Making Space

The kettle boils patiently on the hob; a steady plume of steam emanating from the spout.

My friend has some difficulty recalling memories and connecting the dots.

I’ve been having difficulty remembering my passions and how to make them happen.

We often sit around his kitchen table, telling each other about good times and bad, making plans and sharing ideas. He tells me about the first book he wrote. It is about dinosaurs.?‘People like them – they are monsters, but they can’t hurt you.’

He asks, ‘Have you written a book yet?’.

I’ve never mentioned writing a book; this sideways insight is surprising.

I stand, walk over to the sink and busy myself with yesterday’s crockery. I splutter something about time and circumstances; how I’ll definitely get around to it when everything is right.

He says, ‘My mother had a home help. Do you know what she said to them? – stop me if I’ve told you this before. She told them to sit down and eat cake. Sit down, Jo, I don’t need you to do the washing up’.

I ask if he has advice for writers. Word count per day, maybe? An hour before breakfast?

‘I don’t think so,’ he says. ‘Once I’d started, I felt compelled to carry on’.

And that’s about the size of it. No routine – life was too busy – but he got it done.

I’m almost disappointed, a little derailed. There’s no room for excuses.

To close the gap, you must make some space.

The kettle continues to boil on the AGA plate, filling the air with fine steam. I wonder if I should say something.

'Let’s bake bread,’ he says, quite sure there’s no time like the present. Like when we hard-pruned the buddleia or stood quietly at his wife’s graveside.

‘Great idea. We’ll buy the ingredients. And then we can have homemade marmalade on homemade bread’.

‘Delicious,’ he replies.

We keep company with the ticking clock until dust scatters in dark gold sunlight. In these moments of connection and reflection, thoughts that could collapse are free to rise.

‘Live for as long and as well as you can,’ my friend says, as he pours our cups of tea.