IMS_Blog

Some long while ago I mentioned I don’t blog about personal matters much. Well, this is one of the posts to buck that trend; and exploration if you will of a certain recent event—as such, even with a couple of draftings, it may not be the most coherent of things. The event in question was revealed on Sunday in a telephone conversation with my mother (and subsequently father). It seems they are joining the large number of marriages which finally end with divorce. It is, as best I can tell, on friendly enough terms. It is not necessarily too huge a shock or surprise. Of course I am here and somewhat out of it, and yes, I’m happy that is the case.

This is all relatively easy for me really. I’m a 28 year who recently finished his doctoral degree and doesn’t even live in the same city as his original home. I have about enough life experience to cope with this sort of thing. It does not prevent the feeling from being rather strange however. The thought that the two people who most moulded me to the person I now am (good and bad parts) will no longer be together is one that is familiar to thousands but still a little jarring. The question presents itself internally to wonder, if they came together to produce me and now are apart then what does this say about the suitability of the offspring of such a partnership? Of course I know such musings are patently ridiculous, yet it is a question which seems a surprisingly compelling one to ask. I don’t feel a need to answer it, rather I’m just a bit bemused by it occurring to me.

Possibly the most tumultuous part of this isn’t actually directly this breakup, saddening that it is. Rather it is the sense of change brought about by it. The house my parents currently share is the place I lived from the age of one until flying the nest (and even then having left for university I briefly returned before heading off to York). It holds a certain attachment for me it would probably lack if we had moved around more. Due to my being “down the road” I’ve missed many of the changes wrought to the city of my youth. While much stays the same on visiting I do sometimes wonder if it isn’t just the Tyne Bridge and the room I sleep in which are unchanging. Perhaps they will paint the bridge red…some of my earliest memories are the twinkling street lights seen from the wonderful view out of the bathroom window. I shall miss that house.

I suppose I will have to rescue whatever possessions I still have stored there. Which is another thing. Finally forced to relinquish that childhood tie – grown up now.

Life deals whatever it hand deals and it we deal with it. I hope everyone comes out happy at some point. Ah well…