It is early morning and the mist lies in the valley. The village rises above like something from a fairy tail. All is calm, all is still, all is beautiful.
We will walk around such villages and towns and partake of their charm and drink in their gentle lifestyles. We will of course have coffee at a pavement cafe and chat about the things we see.
You will love the Autumnal window display and we will go in and wander round. You will pick up pretty pottery and old fashioned glasswear. You'll remind me that 'we used to use things like that', I'll smile.
We'll step through a doorway and into another world. The cool of the cloisters tucked away behind the town square in st Sever. The scent of the flowers hangs in the air and we marvel at the architecture, the flowers and the calm.
We go to the other extreme with a visit to a brocante and I indulge in my passion for old things. 'Junk' you laugh and point out that you have used these things all your life and always yearned for new things.
This door takes us both by surprise, there is no imagination required to see the lives within. Artistry on your doorstep in the true sense of the word.
We look up and you spot this black and white cat in a window. 'Oh it's Clawed' you say. We both look up and remember our old feline friend from many years ago. We are transported back in time and to another place, home.
All of this is of course in my imagination. I didn't really take you to France and t
o see all these simple delights last week, but oh Mum I wish I had. If I could make a miracle and take you there I would.
Instead this weekend I did the unthinkable I took you somewhere I didn't want to go. I took you to an old peoples home, a care home, call it what you will, I took you away from your home and into somewhere that even though it uses the word home can never be such a cosy place of life, love and memories.
We talked as usual this weekend, sometimes you were with me and sometimes you drifted off to that place where I cannot go. I hope it is a happy place, although I don't really think so as you look so sad. You are so strong and merely tell me 'All good things come to an end', I cry like a child and you hold my hand. 'Don't forget me' you say and you let go my hand to brush away a tear. I am in pieces.
I drive home in the dusk and pouring rain. I cannot see the blur of cars all around me, I howl like a baby, nobody can hear me. Do they see this mad woman with red blotchy tear stained face raging at the world, she is lost, a child on her own without her Mum.
I Feel a monster, a heel, a shit and every other word I can think of. How can I do this to you. You who gave me everything for all these years, what thanks is this. But we can't do anything else Mum, you need the help we just cannot give. So instead I give you this little virtual visit to France with me Mum. We have done it together, the girly togetherness, our Thelma and louise moment, and just like the film it has a sad ending. We have driven off the cliff together, but Mum please remember, I am holding your hand all the way.