Sunday, 31 January 2016
I'm up above the clouds once more. From 38,000ft up, I can see for miles. My magazine is closed on the table. A clear plastic cup containing what’s left of my sky-high cocktail, a small piece of ice and half a lemon slice sits next to it. I look out over the horizon. We soar high above white, fluffy clouds.
I used to wonder, as a child, what it would be like to be this far off the ground. I remember sitting in class, looking out over the cross-county field towards the airport runway and watching the planes take off one by one. I would dream of all the places in the world that I could visit one day, and of all the colourful people I would meet along the way.
As we bank gracefully left, the sun glares through the window and temporarily blinds me. I close my eyes. And within this isolation, a feeling of peace floods my body. I am free as a bird as I doze off into a light sleep.
The sound of the trolley being pushed back up the aisle for the final time pulls me gently back. Soon we will begin our descent. Soon we will be walking through passport control. Soon I will be boarding the DLR. And soon I will be back in my bedroom. Night will come, dawn will break, and there will be a new beginning once again.
Sunday, 24 January 2016
The mountains begin to turn a deep shade of red.
I tip my head backwards and see white contrails cutting diagonally across a dusky sky. I follow the plane’s journey as it makes its way over the mountain to disappear from sight. I wonder about all the people up there; some will be reading, some watching a movie, some dozing lightly.
In the distance, a pack of dogs bark as a chainsaw revs up. There is smoke billowing from a blaze somewhere up in the mountains.
And I breathe in deeply. The delicate scent of pink almond blossom rushes into my nose as I realise that change has come in…again.
It was so warm today, I felt my body relax and soak up every last ray of Andalusian sun. But now I zip up my jacket against the chilled evening air.
And as the birds make their final flight of the day back towards their nest, I pick up my phone and empty coffee cup to make my way indoors. Just as I am about to head up along the dusty path, something makes me stop. There, just poking out from behind a eucalyptus tree, sits a gigantic moon. And so I stand there for a while, holding my things, looking up into the evening sky. As a cool breeze blows through the trees, I can't help but feel that everything is exactly as it should be.
Sunday, 10 January 2016
The first time I ever laid eyes on you, you were looking out through a window on Charing Cross Road. I knew instantly that you were the one. I stepped in from the cold...and the rest is history.
Our history - it was all meant to be. I will never forget the moments that we’ve shared together. My faithful one. You were there when I began my journey through Italy, and there as I walked into the Brazilian night. We've seen sleepy, romantic lakes and exciting new cities. I’ve lost count of the number of hotel rooms we’ve slept in over the years. The familiar click of a heavy door shutting behind us will stay with me forever.
We’ve been on quite a journey, you and I.
Do you remember the times we ran through airports with seconds to spare? Or the ones where we soared peacefully above oceans below?
We’ve struggled over cobbles and glided over concrete; travelled on tracks and roads and currents of air. You’ve been lifted and pulled and dragged and thrown. And still you stayed right by my side. There as I cried in the rain. And kissed in the dark. And laughed on a train. And fell. And got back up again.
So seeing your handle, finally broken and sitting next to a bin, makes me a little sad - sad that you will never again be hauled off a carousel in a brand new country. And sad that you won’t get to see my face as I laugh once again at the little moments that life can bring.
But with every ending comes a new beginning.
And I look forward to the day when you return, in a different form, to once again run with me through an airport with just seconds to spare.