Writer's Notebook

One by one the last of the visitors trooped out of the room. Rob sat down cleared away the last of the dishes and sat down to wait for his wife to return. The events of the evening played themselves out in an endless loop in his mind. Even now he couldn't believe it. Of course, he'd suspected something. After all, you only turn 50 once in a lifetime and that has to be celebrated. He knew what it must have cost his wife to organise this party. She would have by far preferred a nice quiet dinner together at the restaurant with one or two friends. But to throw a party for over 600 people... Yet, she'd done it for him. And they came; they all came. Some even organised the music so they could dance. Just the way he'd always dreamed and never dared hope. So many people, and all of them there for him.

His mind went back to their conversation of the evening before. They'd been living here now for over five years. That was the longest period in one place since their marriage almost 25 years ago. Wasn't it time to move on? But he didn't want to move. He had trouble admitting it; even greater trouble trying to work out why. It must be something to do with my age, he'd said to avoid thinking about it any more. His wife didn't mind. She'd moved around with him and done so with grace, but if he now wanted to stay put, she wasn't going to contradict him. At last, they were going to be able to put roots down. Well, now he did know why. These people, they really meant something to him. He had given and he had received. They belonged together. That was why he didn't want to leave.

His wife returned and they walked home together, taking an unusual detour along the canal where they sat well into the early hours of the morning. Together they relived many moments from the past; and together they decided that the time really had come to stay where they were. Uprooting is for younger people.