Sunday in all this stillness. Damp, warm wind. My supposedly clever little phone bleeped at 2am to let me know that it was going back to 1am, and that led to an hour of being awake in the night. The warm, damp air of this morning, privately there already in the darkness, a whisper of wind bringing it close to me, not quite a clear sky but all the stars. After yesterday's errands, and waiting, and curious turn in the story, and surprising, delightful conversation with an inspired young artist, today is another step away from each other. We are building a future out of these brave, painful moments.
Remember: the girl with the lost, heart-shaped balloon; the boy peeking over the door; the photographs from the beach. And the conversation with the woman in the art shop about paper and time. All that, and the laughter in the kitchen, the older two departing for Newquay. So many gathered here, and this sense of waiting.
Remember: the girl with the lost, heart-shaped balloon; the boy peeking over the door; the photographs from the beach. And the conversation with the woman in the art shop about paper and time. All that, and the laughter in the kitchen, the older two departing for Newquay. So many gathered here, and this sense of waiting.