I went to Dorset to visit my mum over the Easter holiday, and agreed to spend three days clearing out her garden. As I finally sawed through the trunk of a small, dead birch tree, I expected it to crash through the undergrowth with a satisfying ‘TIMBER!’. But it just hung there, suspended by the ivy which entangled it.
Even when we think we’re cutting loose and making a dramatic change in our lives, we’re still entwined with the lives of others and the decisions that led us to that point. Our past clings to us with its parasitic tendrils.