And it didn't happen...

We woke to an incredibly hard frost - the world sparkled and danced in bright, high sunlight spilling out of a clear turquoise sky. There was an early mist, blurring the lines between frosted ground and tree and sky, swirling around the bases of trees and swallowing the legs of sheep in the fields... FB was excited and happy, and though I still felt a level of trepidation and anxiety, his happiness was infectious and we set off through that pale world singing and laughing together.

We managed 90 miles. After 80 miles we hit horrific traffic over Saddleworth moor and spent 2 hours crawling the 10 miles to the next available motorway exit at which we could give up and turn around. Despite a clear and bright sky, the sun appeared to have little impact on the cold - when we stopped for a break we slipped and slid on black ice on the tarmac as we walked away from the car. My heart sank at FBs sorrow at not being able to make the journey he had been so excited about, but it felt like the safe thing to do - it was icy, I was tired already and was still a long way short of half way, and had no idea how long it might take to get through whatever was holding us up.

FB an I cut a deal to support his sorrow - one that involved, at his request, a motorway services, sitting at a table (apparently terribly important to him), juice and chocolate brownie - my funny wee boy and his gentle simple request to heal his heart. We sat in uncomfortable fake leather bucket chairs and shared our cake and chatted about what we should do with the weekend to make ourselves feel better about not being able to go...

And away we went, back past over 10 miles of static traffic, past the strangely unsettling greyness of cities and finally, away from the motorway and into the rolling open space of East Yorkshire. My heart lifted immediately we saw the landscape of home open up around us. The mist had cleared but the day remained cold and crisp and bright, the Wolds rolling up before us. A huge grey heron joined us, flying parallel to us for a time as it made it's way across the patchwork fields - a little gift of it's company for those short minutes. I know my instinct is often to stay at home, but leaving it opens up the bright joy of returning. Back home again FB decided that the Saturday should be cooking day and Sunday should be drawing day, and so it has been - huge amounts of painting and colouring and sticking and stamping and far too many gingerbread men, alongside soup for the freezer and fritters for tea.

I'd felt huge anxiety calling my ex to explain that we had decided to turn around, but it has turned to huge relief as my decision was accepted and understood without question. Tentatively, I begin to wonder whether something has shifted and we can begin to move forward again more positively and without the same levels of negativity, hostility and misunderstanding that we have been struggling with.

I worried that, having planned to spend an FB-free weekend working on some essays that I would end up getting nothing done, but have ended up being, I suspect, more productive than I would have been. Being at home and relaxed and content after a day-full of drawing and cooking is actually a pretty good setting in which to spend an evening working - better than in an unfamiliar space in which I know I would have been focused on, and worrying about not being with FB. Now, his soft snores are a background to my work and the motivation I dragged out of my apprehensions about the weekend I thought I would have has stayed with me in this gentler weekend and I've been productive. OK, it's not finished, but I'm nearly there!!

And so on the face of it, all that waiting and apprehension I described came to nothing, but of course that's not true at all - it just came to something different than I had expected. It was horribly frustrating to be stuck in traffic like that, and to drive all that way only to turn around. But if I hadn't done that, I would have missed the heron, missed the sun dancing on the frost over East Yorkshire and on Saddleworth moor, missed my lovely boy carefully tucking his horrible chair up to the table he so wanted at the motorway services, and his pleasure at eating bought chocolate brownie from the packet. That's enough for me.