... from the Beach

‘I am not supposed to be here’, I think silently as my feet sink into soft marshland. ‘This is not how it was meant to be.’ I wonder why fate has brought me here? washed up on this vast expanse of land covered in a fine layer of green moss.

Turning, I look back from where I am walking to and watch the sun, its last rays about to be consumed by the swaying arms of tall pine trees. 

Tilting my head upwards towards the twilight sky I watch Cormorants silently swooping in mesmerising formations. A lone bird squawks piercingly until it reaches friends. The sky is a patchwork of greyish blues and lemon slivers that spread out above us like a fan. I don’t think it could ever have been more perfect.

“This is achingly beautiful, isn’t it?” I say.

He laughs at my crazy ways, but agrees wholeheartedly.

“Enchanting” I whisper silently as we walk onwards hand in hand.

We are walking towards the blue, piercing blue, even at this time of day, at this time of year, and the anticipation is building as we begin to near a gap in the dunes. I’m not sure what I am expecting, I hadn’t set out to expect anything, but then she begins to run, he begins to run; we all run. Laughing and whooping, hoping and believing in something magical, our feet pushing with force up and over the heavy bank of thick soft sand.

And then, there it is:

They run on, but I stand still. I want to absorb this: this beauty, this moment, this peace.

My heart is tingling, my body alive, my mind alert. This kind of euphoric feeling is as close as you can get to drugs, I swear. I think this is the most beautiful beach I have ever seen and I want to stay here forever, sleeping under the stars, resting silently with the birds.

But we should have been in Portugal. We should have been on that plane. We should have been in a cabin at the edge of the mountains. But one of our family members was sick, really sick, and we couldn’t leave her. So a last minute escape to the beach was hurriedly planned to aid her recovery and, rather surprisingly, it proved the perfect place to remind us that if you search for it, there is an abundance of beauty right on your doorstep and somehow, fate seems to know how to get us there.

and I'm pleased to say that our beloved
Milla is finally on the mend
after a really nasty incident.
Thanks for all your good wishes :-)

... from Time

Time is something we cannot get back; we can’t buy it, freeze it or rewind it. It simply is, now, in this moment. And is it not time that makes life worth living? for time is life, isn't it?

Several things have made me think about my own relationship with time lately, primarily untimely death. If I were to die tomorrow what would it be – in that split second between breath and peacefulness – that I would wish for?

I would wish for time: to be with those I love, to laugh with girlfriends over wine, to stand in the shadow of a golden sunset holding hands, soaking up the soft sea breeze and those last beautiful droplets of a late summer’s day. I would want time to not just hear my daughter’s infectious laugh, but be within it, submerged.

Today I walked a local loop walk with my daughter and our dog; across fields, through the grounds of a farmhouse, over pretty canal bridges and along a peaceful towpath littered with the soggy fallen leaves of a disappearing Autumn. We talked, we admired, we collected leaves and berries, we shared a homemade bun, we climbed trees. But mostly we just breathed in the unseasonably warm day fully; the soft quietness of a fine mist, welcome patches of blue sky, an occasional bright sunray.

I thought: ‘I’m so glad I have time to hear the birds – I mean really hear them – time to listen to my heart. Time to listen to life.’

It wasn’t always this way, I didn’t always have time. Often I was buried in work or rushing about restlessly, filling my days with this and that, but then we decided to move onto a narrowboat. Not just because we fancied the idea of living on water, but because - for us - it was a lifestyle choice, and that lifestyle affords us what I believe to be the most precious element of life.

Time.

And for that I am grateful.