This morning, today
This morning I was woken up early, by the baby patting my face, after a night of wake-up after wake-up. Her sister was also in our bed, having spent the small hours starfishing and kicking the covers off. We got up, got dressed while eating cereal, then Alex left for work. I bundled the three of us out the door and we headed off for the nursery drop-off, shouting out all the letters we saw on the way. The baby and I then went to the shop for milk and once we were home I made a cup of tea while she napped in the pram, then didn’t drink it as she woke up, predictably. We shared a piece of toast instead.
This morning I could hug my children, play games with them, shout at them to get their shoes on, try not to think too much about the baby going to nursery soon or her sister starting school next year and instead think about what we could have for dinner, or do at the weekend, because owing to a geographical fluke of where we happen to live we’re lucky like that, but don’t really appreciate it, and don’t even really have to think much about anything really.
This morning I got out my laptop to write a blog post but everything I needed to do felt superfluous, because like a lot of people today I’m haunted by the images on the front pages of a three-year-old Syrian boy, Aylan, and it’s bought to a head all my thoughts on the humanitarian refugee crisis as a whole, with so much death and suffering. And I’m confused about why our government isn’t doing more to help, and angry that they’re not.
This morning I thought it was probably pretty futile, writing this, and I’m sure everyone’s said things in a far better way, sooner, less simplistically and so on, but whatever the politics, I can’t think of anything else, today.
Sign this petition to urge the government to accept more asylum seekers and increase support for refugees.
Read this article on The Pool about what you can do to help people in Calais.