“Oh Mummy, isn’t the sky just beautiful today!”
I’m looking up and seeing cloud. Grey cloud. But suddenly, there it is, thin slivers of yellow breaking through like a shy smile, and just as I notice these small pockets of goodness my daughter sighs, “look at the gold mummy…”
And I realise that it’s me; it’s me that has put this in her, and as a mother I feel proud and good and wonderful.
Once upon a time ten years ago – or so – I was in a car with my then boss. The sky as we drove away from the office to a meeting was A M A Z I N G: great puffs of white outlined with pink, floating mesmerisingly along the treeline.
“Wow, look at that amazing sky”, I said in wonder.
“Are you serious?” he replied with a furrowed brow and curled lip.
Maybe that was one of the many moments I realised I was different. You see, I notice things. I notice trees that dance in Autumn winds. I sense the swaying movement of grass under my feet on a summer’s day. I feel the air of a coastal breeze deep, deep within. I’m always trying to take that moment of life and turn it into something beautiful, even when everything else is numb or empty or dead.
And I realise that this is what I can pass to my daughter, the most precious gift I think I have to offer: the ability to find joy in the simplest of things.