Do it, see it, and say it all

When my dad was discharged from hospital recently he came home with a package of carers (who visit four times a day) and various other things to help make his life a little easier, including THE CHAIR.

I have to write THE CHAIR in bold upper case, as it’s a great monster of a thing, specially designed for someone who spends their whole day in it.

Perks include being able to recline and a magic moving cushion to boost circulation and help avoid sores.

It’s also really bloody heavy.

When the men delivered it to my dad’s living room they plonked it down, facing the telly, and off they went.

But what they didn’t realise was that my dad never watches TV. He only possesses one in order to watch the occasional DVD.

When I went to visit him on Monday he told me how irritating this has been - and how, as a nature lover, he would much rather THE CHAIR face the window so he could gaze into the garden at his beloved trees. (If you missed my recent post about exactly how much he loves trees you can read it here.)

‘I’ll move THE CHAIR for you!’ I instantly offered.

‘Oh no,’ he replied, shaking his head. ‘It’s way too heavy.’

Luckily for my dad there’s a set of weights in the Airbnb where I’ve been staying and which I’ve been using, so I’ve officially entered my ‘Hench Era’ (which is due to end when I leave in February, making it a something of a time sensitive era).

‘Don’t worry,’ I told him, ‘I’ll be able to do it.’

So I helped him out of THE CHAIR and onto one of his dining chairs and then I set about hefting THE CHAIR across the room.

‘You can do it!’ my dad exclaimed in surprise.

‘Of course,’ I replied, proud as Popeye.

‘In that case, would you be able to get rid of the rug?’

Similar to Oscar Wilde and that infamous hotel wallpaper, of which Wilde reportedly said: “My wallpaper and I are fighting a duel to the death. One or the other of us has to go,” it turned out that my dad had taken an intense dislike to the large rug on his living room floor.

And given that the Wilde quote is meant to have been the last thing he ever said, I knew I had to take action. So before you could say ‘Holy room makeover!’ I found myself hefting various items of furniture off the offending rug, while my dad oversaw the operation from his seat at the table.

Then, like a character in a Hitchcock movie disposing of a body, I had to roll up the giant rug and dump it in the hall outside.

By this point my dad was beaming, which made all of the huffing and puffing and dust inhalation worthwhile. But the piece de resistance had to be when I finally got him back in THE CHAIR - FACING THE WINDOW INSTEAD OF THE TV!

It was such a simple thing, and such a tiny tweak, but I could tell from his face that it made a huge difference.

It was a real insight into what life must be like when your world has shrunk down to the size of a room.

The smallest of shifts can make the world of difference.

Later, over a cup of tea, my dad talked some more about this.

‘You need to do it all, see it all, say it all, while you still can,’ he told me, and his words resonated deeply. (It’s actually a subject I wrote about a long time ago in more detail, so if you’re interested please take a read here.)

I left my dad’s on Monday night feeling tired but happy - and wondering what small shifts I could make to my own life that might end up making the world of difference.

It reminded me a little of the One Degree Rule, which refers to a plane flying just one degree off course ending up a mile off course for every sixty miles flown. So, a plane flying from San Diego to Hawaii at just one degree off would miss the island by 42 miles.

Obviously, when applied to planes the One Degree Rule does not end well - unless you hate Hawaii. But when applied to things like CHAIRS and simple life improvements, it can end brilliantly.

Perhaps this is something you might like to mull over too? What small shifts could make a world of difference to you?

Maybe it could be a small change to your morning routine…

Ten minutes of exercise…

Or five minutes of meditation…

Or writing one page a day…

Or devoting 30 minutes to that business idea that's been burning away in the back of your mind for ages…

Or spending the final half hour of your day reading a book instead of scrolling…

Until next week, here’s to doing it, seeing it and saying it all, while we’re still able.

With love,

Siobhan

PS: HUGE thanks to everyone who commented on last week’s letter, which actually came out a little late this week, as I’m currently up against a book deadline. I’ve never had so many lovely replies to an issue of Wonderstruck. I’m so happy so many of you embraced the Ogga Bogga spirit! If you missed last week’s letter you can read it here…

PPS: I found this photo of my dad and my son taken many moons ago and it made me smile so I thought I’d share it with you…