A Thousand Illegible Scribble | Chapter 5

Scraps in Healing

I started writing this over a decade ago when I was fumbling to understand what was happening to my mum. It then became a way for me to understand whatever legacy might be waiting for me when I reached midlife. And when I had a daughter, our three generations became tied together in a thousand illegible scribbles that had already been written, but we had each yet to decipher.

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Chapter 5 | Scraps in Healing

Scene 1.

A Cognitive Behavioral Therapist in Stoke, an industrial town in the North of England. We sat on a frosted bench, outside a detached house that had been converted into offices, waiting for our appointment.

It was winter; there was no reception, no waiting room. My mum was distraught. I held her hand in mine, for warmth as much as comfort.