i went to ramsgate

i got a coach yesterday from lewisham and for what felt like an eternity i sat crammed amongst many people hurtling towards Thanet.

a girl got sick, a pretty little thing, with her nan and her nan' s friend and talked the whole way of bingo wings and aerobic classes. i sat and stared out of the window my wriggling boy squished on my lap. i thought of my sister on this coach  last time she went to ramsgate. she loved it. she also got sick on the coach just before she knew that she was ill. i tried to see through her eyes the little seaside streets and the twinkling lights of other peoples lives far away from grey south east London.i searched panickedly for rochester castele as we crossed the medway, as my sister was enchanted by Rochester  and it's Dickensian history.
when she last came here she and her youngest sister swam in the sea. she was so gallant.so brave.so fiercely beautiful.

i was not sure if perhaps i had made a mistake going to ramsgate. i had gone to meet the children. my sister and i had already planned to go and i wanted to get there for her. in fact i got there and felt lonely and devastated and missed my family. i was not sure i was able to be happy for the children. but their 'christmas morning voices' a phrase coined by Rachel made me happy. and i listened with borrowed enthusiasm to their retelling of chasing waves and climbing and fun. their cheeks were rosy .

eventually the two youngest, mine and my sisters, went to bed and a lovely friend of my friend (they have been looking after the kids) read them the three little pigs in her beautiful lulling deep voice. they actually fell asleep!

i stayed up drowning my deep sorrows with red wine next to an open log fire. Rachel loves fires. my son stoked it and remembered Rachel teaching him her love of fire. we listened to its timeless crackling. we used to have fires in my garden in new cross and she would always be the main fire keeper with my son her right hand man. once, he remembered, she rescued something from the fire that belonged to him and she burnt her hand.

after  sleep we woke and went down to the sea again. i bought them cockles in vinegar then i stood transfixed by the grey sea and spoke to Rachel in the wind and the moving tide. my shoulders fell and after some time i promised the sandy wet children hot fish and chips and managed to drag my leaden body across the sand to the restaurant.

at some point i felt out of control as the children began to bicker and whine. i felt so strongly that i could not make thing's better. i had not the strength to answer the moans and whines and remained silent.

and then i kissed them all goodbye and went to the coach where i sat silently traumatised and read a book of poems that my sister had recently read.
i saw a girl who looked just like my sister at some point in her life. she did not see me watching her.
when i got back to lewisham it seemed alien and strange. my world has altered. it is not the same world of february 6th 2012. it has changed and i am still in it.