chatting

Rachel Irving

Around the mid point of almost every day I video call my folks. When it is warm I sit outside in the sunshine; more often I am in my bedroom. They are both recovering from the virus, but these calls have become far more than a daily health check. My mother and I share our sad and happy stories and it feels like a way of breaking down the four small walls. We share news from friends around the globe, and a picture emerges of life today in a Hampshire village, up a Cypriot mountain, in St Lucia, of a programmer in Tokyo, a clown in San Fransisco and grandchildren in Toronto. She bustles around her kitchen, I lounge on a bed. Every day my Dad makes says a brief hello and blows kisses, every day they get a little stronger.

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