One of the purposes of the happy moment challenge was to share out, in an even fashion, the highlights of ones life. By forcing the challengee to see each day as capable of rendering a unique happiness, it seemed, for 100 days anyway, that happy things organized and allotted themselves in a orderly fashion, measuring themselves out in a methodical way. Which of course we all know to be completely and utterly untrue. Happiness, like sadness, can often tumble out in one messy lump, leaving the receiver slightly dazed and overwhelmed. That was certainly what I felt yesterday. The happy moment challenge was over, so events were free to unfold as they did, but still that sense of “this is how it will be today” lingered. Thoughts were only on The Fringe. And watching Lizzie and her schoolmates perform. Perform spectacularly. The word “pride” doesn’t really do the emotion justice. And add to that, all the other shows I had and was going to see. That joy I get from immersing myself in pieces of theatre, especially the grim ones. And so I think I can be forgiven for waking that morning sure of how the happy moments would be revealed; I had a stack of tickets to prove it.
Then I got the news. News that I had been hoping for since, well August or December or March or whenever I decided to build this library for real. Thanks so an incredibly donation from a friend (a generous and beautiful friend; yes, as I have writtten before, God does give with both hands sometimes) that thermometer reached and then spilled over the £6,000 mark. For a few moments I didn’t know what to feel. I was stunned. And then elated. And then very very very grateful. As I have also written before, this project long stopped being “my library”. It has become “ours.” And by ours, I mean all the people I share my life with, not because I am related to them, though the kids did toss some in some quid, but because they have become part of my life in London, even if they don’t live here themselves. When I look down the donor list I see names of people I have known for a long time, and one I don’t know at all, but is a friend of a friend. I see people I chat to at the school gate and in the coffee shop and at drinks parties. I see people whose children have been in my house and people I know see through the Facebook filter. I see an amazing cross section of the people I call “friends.” As Carole King so beautifully wrote, “my life has been a tapestry of rich and royal hue…”
And each and every one of these colourful threads put this library together. Yes, I named it after Craig, but I am adding all your names to the wall of honour. Because it is yours too. Thank you, thank you, thank you. From the bottom of my heart. I love you all. xxxx