Today’s been one of those days.
One of those days, whose ends you don’t mind seeing; the ones whose evenings you hurry along; whose nights you rush into, and jump into bed particularly early – in anticipation of tomorrow.
As the time drips down the clock, I feel like Harry Potter. Not because I’m a wizard. Or have an arch-enemy with a disturbing face on the back of his head. Or own an owl. (Although, the latter is tempting.) I feel like Harry Potter in that first book – the one I read – standing, anxiously, on a busy platform in London’s King’s Cross Station, with his big load of luggage on a trolley, staring at a brick wall and desperately trying to think up a way of getting through that wall to reach Platform 9 and 3/4.
Not because I’ve been admitted to Hogwarts.
But because Harry was in a bit of a pickle, really. He was surrounded by people who knew where they were going. And they seemed to be going there fast. Meanwhile, he was off to someplace he had only minimal evidence of; someplace, that, at that very moment, he had no idea how to reach.
Our JK was on to something. Yes, I’m really going to stretch out this Harry Potter episode and align it with real life.
Right now, life is getting pretty real.
I’m just back from Joanna’s hen do. (The tired results of which, may or may not have brought about this wall-hitting analogy.) Joanna’s getting married in 2 weeks – the first of us to sail away into the sunset and then come back and build a new little life with the love of her’s. It’s all terribly exciting. Like, SO exciting.
My medic friends are graduating. My dentist friend is graduating. Within a matter of months, they’re going to be earning more sterling pounds than they’ll know what to do with.
Life right now is like Platform 9. (Hear me out.) People are skiting all over the show – but in the direction they ought to be going. Tickets in hand, ideal soundtrack playing harmoniously in their earphones, appropriate footwear – sorted. Whether their destination is a new and lovely adventure across the world or a new and lovely degree to study for or a new and lovely career or a new and lovely spouse and house. Or a combination of a few.
Then there are the Harry Potters in their midst. The Harrys are a little more vague. We’re not altogether clear on what’s happening right now. We know there’s a plan. We know there’s a destination – though it may be one of many; a stepping stone to the next, if you will. We know there’s a way of getting there – and get there, we shall. We have huge big hopes and dreams – they’re just going to take some time to pan out. But right now, we’re kind of just repeatedly hitting our trolleys against a wall – and sometimes, we find ourselves quite literally hitting our heads against a variety of walls, in an attempt to make things make sense. A lot of the time, various bits and bobs fly out of our trolleys upon impact, but we manage to keep a hold of our dearest possessions.
Don’t get me wrong – the lovely passers-by do stop and ask where it is we want to go, doing their best to point us in vaguely the right direction. They’re a great help. Fantastic. And we wouldn’t still be standing, if it weren’t for them. But sometimes, the questions about where we’re going are the questions that really throw us, and send us running voluntarily into the wall.
Fret not. Whilst I stopped reading the Potter books after he encountered that chamber of secrets, I hung around long enough to see him past Platform 9. And I seem to recall he got out of that conundrum of reaching Platform 9 and 3/4.
I repeat, fret not.
Well, because the Weasleys are here.
That endearing, red-headed little family of endearing, red-headed little people. They understand the pickle Harry’s got himself into. And they’re here to cheer him on.
In life, we find our own Weasleys – or maybe they find us. Those individuals who just have to give you a reassuring look, or say one sentence, in order for you to realise that everything’s actually going to be alright.
Everything actually is going to be alright.
Today, I bumped into one of my Weasleys in a coffee shop. She is simply splendid. All I have to manage is one, unsure statement and aim it in her direction – a statement like this:
“It’s all going to pan out…?” – the sentence seeped in uncertainty and an urgent need of confirmation.
“Of course it is! Everyone’s different. God has it all worked out.” – in the most blasé and wonderful of tones.
She’s my Weasley. She even has vaguely red hair.
And it doesn’t mean I raise my hands to the handles of my trolley, give the wall a death stare and march straight through.
But, what it does mean, is that I have the strength to raise my hands to my trolley once again – and the sense to lift a blanket and a pillow out from my luggage for the long-run. I might have to shack up on Platform 9 for quite some time.