Any day now...

I placed the bunches carefully onto the kitchen worktop with the rest of the shopping and began to put everything away. I snipped off the elastic bands holding the stems together and trimmed the ends. Over the next couple of days, I casually glanced at the buds as I walked past the vase. I looked at them whilst making coffee, momentarily eyed them up before going to bed, and glanced at them as I sang. I was looking forward to the beautiful burst of bright yellow that was to come. I waited…and waited…and waited. Finally, by the 4th day, the first bud was beginning to bloom. It seemed a little slow in coming, but at least the flowering was imminent. Making my breakfast the following morning, my heart sank. The flower that had showed so much promise the day before was now already withering away. Then, one by one, the daffodil buds came and went without so much as a fizzle. 
I couldn’t understand it. 1 week of hope, 7 days of willing, 168 hours of expectation led to this moment: the moment I finally realised that they were never going to bloom. 
As I popped the brown stems into the compost bin, I began to think about hope and how, sometimes in life, things don’t quite turn out the way we want them to. With all the want and will in the world, some things are just not meant to be at that precise moment. But what if nothing is for nothing? What if the things that don’t work out eventually lead somewhere else entirely? That other place in which we laugh that little bit louder, dance that little bit lighter and shine just that little bit brighter.

Slip

As I walk along the beach, the sound of lapping waves and soaring seagulls surrounds me. A salty wind picks up and tickles my ears. The sand is soft and golden. I turn my head to look back and see a set of footprints glistening in the sun. They follow me faithfully.
Making my way up the slope towards the cliff top, the bright afternoon light is invigorating.
And as I reach the highest point, I stop walking and look out across a glimmering sea. Boats bob gently on the surface and become part of the horizon. Just before the dirt track that runs alongside the edge, something catches my eye – a sign:
Warning:
Slippery surface.
I don’t know if it is the picture of the falling man, or the words, but I am suddenly aware of the wet earth beneath my feet. I push away a thought of landing flat on my face and continue on. Mud begins to clog the soles of my shoes. I slow my pace.
And when I eventually reach the ditch that spans across my path, I begin to think about fear and how it can stop us from moving forward. What if we fall again, what if we fail?
But there is only now. Just this single moment.
And so, under a cloudy sky, my feet lift off the ground and I leap across the muddy void.
Sometimes in life, we slip. Whether it be from a banana skin, a break-up, or a bad day, there will always be things that pop up, causing us to lose our balance. But for every fall, there is a get-back-up. And for every dust-yourself-down, there’s space for something new. Something wonderful. Something beautiful.

Enough

I am too old. I am not cute. I am too short. I’m not successful enough. I don’t have a toned body. My hair is peppered with grey. I am single. I can’t drive.
And I care too much…
With my mind spinning out of control like a defective rocket, I try to control my thoughts - but the more I try, the harder it becomes. And I am suddenly submerged.
I watch as rain starts to fall. The cold drops splash down onto the windowpane, each one leaving a trail behind it like a comet. People outside come and go, scurrying to find shelter from the downpour.
And inside the battle rages on.
Sometimes, we are so hard on ourselves. Our own name-calling can be deeply hurtful. I can’t help but wonder if we were actually told these things by another person, how offended we would be. We wouldn’t accept it from anyone else…so why do we allow it from ourselves?
And then, just when I think that I will never be able to shake this feeling, my phone pings: a text from a friend - her message is simple and loving.
Three words. Twelve letters. One truth:
YOU ARE ENOUGH.
They circle my mind and slowly filter their way down into my heart.
And I smile.
There are times in our life when the inner voice of doubt gets so loud, we can hear nothing else - the voice that tells us we are not interesting enough, not clever enough, not good-looking enough.
And there will be ups and downs - moments when we think that we will never be enough.
But maybe, just maybe, we are actually better than we ever imagined.
Maybe we were always more than enough!

On Guard

It would definitely shatter a bone, or two. The heavy iron end would smash through anything that got in its way. The protruding spikes were blunt and weighty. A shiver runs down my spine as I picture how many people have been on the receiving end of its deadly blow. 

Next to them sits the beautifully crafted rifles. Delicately decorated in Mother of Pearl and ancient ivory, it is hard to imagine that something so aesthetically pleasing was made to kill.
There are silver daggers, steel swords, and pocketknives, all designed to swipe and chop and slice and stab.
Gazing through the glass case, which protects the protective armour, I admire the craftsmanship of the smooth metallic suit. Every piece hammered and shaped perfectly to fit the contours of a man’s body.
As I continue walking around the armoury room of the Wallace Collection, I am suddenly struck by a thought: for all the ways we protect ourselves in war - the shields, the armour, the heavy weaponry - what about the everyday? How do we protect ourselves against the many other dangers that lie in wait?
There are times in life when I could have done with an emotional coat of armour myself. I would have made use of its thick steel skin as a heavy defense – that way my feelings would never have been hurt, my heart never broken, or my self-confidence severely battered.
Life can be messy and disorientating sometimes. But as long as we love ourselves with all our imperfections, and protect our heart by keeping it open, that might just be all the armour we will ever need.

Been there...

I’ve seen it before. I’ve sat at my desk with a hot ginger tea. I’ve watched the steam swirl up and out of the blue mug. I’ve turned my head to look out of the glass: the same grey sky, the same cold breeze blowing through my open window.
With the same words written on the page of my orange Moleskine, in exactly the same order, with the same blue ink, everything seems to stop.
I’m lost in space, unable to orientate my body.
There’s nothing extraordinary about this moment. It is just a moment - a speck of living.
But I’ve been here before, witnessed everything in minute detail: my steady breath, quickening heartbeat and an energy spinning up my spine.
There’s something unsettling about this flash of déjà vu. And at the same time, quietly reassuring, familiar.
A million possibilities come flying out of this twice-lived moment.
I can’t help but wonder what I would do differently if I knew for sure what was coming around the corner? Would I change my words, my actions, my hopes?
As much as we want everything to be perfect, life is also about making mistakes. Without them, we would never grow. We would never look at ourselves and never find our inner strength. Sometimes we live and learn, sometimes we don’t.
There are mistakes that make us kick ourselves, and mistakes that cause us to cringe.
And then there are those that take us to another place entirely – a place where whatever happens, we know we will always be ok.

Fly

You never knew, but when I was little I would secretly watch you dance with my dad in the dining room. Old country records would crackle out over the speakers on a Sunday afternoon. Nestled somewhere in between finishing lunch and the afternoon doze in front of a black and white movie, you would move gracefully around the room. Arms tightly locked around each other, you would sway side to side in time with the music, never once opening your eyes. Every so often I would catch a quick glimpse of your face. Your soft smile told me that you were finally happy.
Unconditionally in love with the man who lost his wife, the children who had no mum, you stood by us with an open heart. Thirty years later, I can’t ever remember a time when you didn’t listen proudly to everything going on in my life and get excited for all the small triumphs. Always wanting nothing but the best for us, wishing us happiness every single day.
You held me when I had the measles and hugged me when I left home. Danced with me on our holidays and laughed until our bellies hurt. We swam and walked and played and talked. You became part of the furniture, a heart in our home.
You always said to me that everything happens for a reason. That, I know, is true. I don’t remember the first words I ever said to you, but the last were “I love you”. For that, I will be eternally grateful.
We have just two sunsets more before your body will be a part of the earth. If I could make just one more phone call, see you one last time, I would.
And maybe one day I will fly next to you. I will hug you and give you a big kiss. I will tell you how much I have missed you and how beautiful you look…but not yet my darling, not today.

Between stations

The gentle movement of the carriage rocks me closer to sleep. With a late afternoon sun burning brightly through the glass, I enjoy the feeling of warmth on my face. I wonder, briefly, if anyone will board the next time the train stops. We shudder to a halt, doors open, and I'm suddenly surrounded by walking and talking, sitting and rustling. The peace is shattered. 
A tall man with a limp plops himself down next to me and says hi. He has friendly blue eyes and a soft voice. Within seconds the only conversation we will probably ever have begins. 
As we accelerate he tells me about his recent knee operation. I am sympathetic to his pain. We talk about family, horse riding, holidays and work. He is frustrated at being unable to play football at the moment and regrets not having travelled more when he was younger. A sadness flashes across his face as he tells me that life is short. I nod, suddenly thinking about my bucket list. With a change of subject, he is once again smiling. His girlfriend is coming over tonight to cook him dinner. I laugh at the loveliness of it. He chuckles. 
And as the train begins to slow, I see the station up ahead. I slide my orange Moleskine and silver pen back into my bag and zip it up.
"This is me, I'm afraid", I say as I ready myself to leave. He looks up at me and our hands clasp in a shake.
"Have a nice life", he cheerfully says as I get up out of my seat. I smile and wish him health and happiness. In less than a minute I am standing on a platform, alone once again, bag in hand. 
And as the train pulls away, I make my way up towards the exit and out into the sun.
I can't help but think about these funny little moments we have. Life is all about connections - connections we have with friends and family, strangers and lovers. We share our lives and bear witness to each other's journey. But wherever we go, and whomever we meet on the way, the most important relationship we will ever have is the one we have with ourself. 

Slowly, but surely

My friend is old. Very old. He makes me chuckle. As we both enter the manicured garden, he sinks his head into his dark shell to acclimatise. Within a few seconds, my bare feet hit the cool grass and feel instantly refreshed. Gently placing him down, I watch as his little head pops out of hiding to stretch his neck out once more.
A beautiful day for a stroll.
I am mesmerised by him. The way he looks around and surveys his surroundings brings a smile to my face. He is at peace in his home. His home, in which he has lived for decades, is his familiar. His little legs move slowly forward, dragging his bulky shell along one step at a time. He ambles over to investigate this friendly giant, now sitting on the grass with him. Touching my leg with his head, he looks up at me. I know what he loves. I come bearing gifts. One by one, he munches on delicious strawberry tops and juicy dandelion heads. He is slow and elegant and lovely.
As he continues to feast, I watch and wonder about how fast everything seems to be spinning in the world. We text as we walk, work as we fly, and eat on the run. At times, it's easy to feel lost and overwhelmed by our gigantic juggling act. We all have hopes and dreams and places to be. But as much as we push forward and strive to achieve, sometimes we just need to stop for a moment and take stock. A little time to simply breathe and be. Comfortable in our own shell.
And once we slow down just enough to look around, we might just realise we are closer to our dreams than we thought.

Freckle

There is a freckle. It lives on the inside of my middle finger, right hand. It has been there for as long as I can remember and I don't even know the first time I became aware of it.
Despite being there for all to see, I'm pretty sure there's no one on this planet who knew about its existence. Even those who have been intimately close with me probably won't have noticed it at all.
But it's there.
It has been with me every step of the way. It was there the morning I jumped off the train and landed in London. There the first time I took off into the sky. There the day I fell in love and there the night my heart was broken. It has seen me across vast oceans and sprawling continents, through burning sun and pouring rain. It has listened to me laugh and cry and sing and scream. Felt grains of warm sand trickle over it and the petals of a red rose rest on it.
With over 7 billion people on this beautiful blue planet, it is easy to feel like just another one in the crowd. We meet so many people at different stages of our life, some become friends, some, lovers, and some just pass on through.
But wherever we go and whoever we meet on our journey, as long as we remember that there is no one else on this planet exactly like us, and love every freckle on our body, we will always be ok.

Living the dream

The first wall goes up easily. A wall turns into a room. A room turns into a house. Wallpaper up and a wooden floor down, the stylish furniture goes in. A bed, a sofa, a TV, a coffee machine. Sun shining, pink blossom trees get planted around the poolside without a single bead of sweat ever falling from my brow.
Then I move in.
I walk over to the wardrobe which sits next to the beautiful flowers and slip into smart casual. Nice.
Then my dog arrives. She loves her new home. After a quick look around she immediately begins to dig a hole in the freshly-mowed lawn. I am not bothered. I am too busy chatting to my new acquaintance. We become friends. Then with a single kiss, we become something else. He is perfect.
Without realising, I find myself lost in a moment of creating the perfect life. Only it's not a real life. Hitting the save button, I close the game down and take a sip of my coffee. And as I sit there enjoying a few minutes of peace, I can't help but think about all the things in life that I have yet to achieve. Hopes and dreams that live deep in my heart. I wonder what they will look like. Will they be how I imagined? Or something else entirely? And in amongst all the things I want, lies everything that I really need; the things that help me to grow, to laugh, to learn, to change. I suddenly get the feeling that I haven't even scratched the surface. Sometimes we think we know exactly what we need in life, the things that will bring us happiness. And sometimes we are right on the money. But occasionally we need to let go of everything we think we know in order to open ourselves up to new opportunities.
And maybe, just maybe, everything we need has been right under our nose the whole time.

Brace, brace

"Ladies and gentlemen, your attention - for your safety be aware of the following: A safety card is in your seat pocket showing the exit routes, oxygen masks, life jackets, and brace position that you must adopt if you hear 'brace, brace'.
There are two emergency exits at the rear, four in the middle and two at the front of the cabin".

As we pull away from the terminal and taxi towards the end of the runway, I look out of the window. The early morning sky is already a beautiful shade of blue. Soon I will be lifted from the earth, high above the clouds once more. My mind begins to wander up and out of the cabin to a place filled with an Orange Blossom breeze and a burning sun.

"Floor lighting will guide you to an exit. Be aware of your nearest exit. In an emergency leave all cabin baggage on-board".

With engines full throttle and seconds before the brakes are released, a thought occurs to me: in the event of an airborne crisis, we will be fully prepared with everything we need to know to help us get through it.
But what if the air supply doesn't fail, or we don't land on water. What if the emergency is invisible to everyone but ourselves? How do we brace for the agony of a heartbreak, the loss of a loved one, a job, a dream, or the countless other challenges that life throws at us on a daily basis? Where is the life jacket, oxygen mask and low level lighting then? Sometimes in life things pop up to throw us off track. We think we will never again be able to open our hearts, or dare to dream, or give in to hope. But with every knock-back comes a new beginning; an opportunity to learn a lesson and shine brighter than ever before.

Loop

Higher and higher we climb. The thick chain clunking beneath the carriage lets me know that we're not quite at the top yet. Wind begins to swirl around and dance through my auburn hair. It feels so nice in spite of the adrenaline that is coursing through my veins. For a brief moment I wonder if we will ever stop climbing. My heart continues to beat out of my chest as the world suddenly turns silent. From up here I can see for miles. Over the treetops and rides below, people look like ants on the ground: funny, strange, busy. A beautiful deep blue sky frames everything.
And then, ever so slowly,
we
begin
to 

fall.
My grip on the side bars tighten and my knuckles change colour. Accelerating at warp speed, the world suddenly becomes a blur as I'm lost in the velocity. Head pushed back into my seat, we spiral and turn and rattle and shake. Faster and faster we go.
It is just before we hit the loop that I notice some people in front of me with their arms raised high above their heads. A scream of excitement rings out from them and with a deep breath, I too let go. My hands float high as wind rushes through my fingertips.
I realise in that moment that I am laughing. And on we travel, tipping and turning around every bend. I feel so light, free.
After one last exhilarating dip, we begin to decelerate and pull into the platform once again.
With the safety harness released and lifted up off my torso, I step out of the carriage and make my way down the wooden steps. My mind continues to race at a hundred miles an hour.
As I look over my shoulder at the place we've just been, high above the earth, I can't help but think about the times I've tried to hold on so tightly to things before. The fear of losing people I love is palpable.
But that's the thing about life. We grow, we change, we laugh, we cry. Things don't always go smoothly and we can't control everything. But as long as we keep our hands and hearts open, safety harness or not, we are always going to be ok. Everything that is truly meant to be, happens in its own time and place. And whether we hold on tightly to the bar or wave our arms up in the air, there will always be bright new beginnings waiting just around the next bend.

Rippling Stone

As we pulled up to the car park, a vision flashed through my mind. I saw him. In his chair being wheeled up the ramp inside, his beautiful auburn hair glistening in the sunlight.
I wondered what the memorial stone would look like.
After a warm welcome from one of the carers, she led us through the maze of rooms and out into the garden. Equipment adorned the playground and I imagined the little ones rolling and swinging and laughing.
And on we journeyed into the gardens. There was a stillness as we entered. The water that flowed down a gulley splashed gently into the rippling pond below. And that's when I noticed all the other stones, engraved with a name and birthday - the children somewhere else, always loved, never forgotten. As it was placed carefully into my hands, I felt its coolness, smooth and heavy in my palms. I wondered briefly if he was here with us standing next to the pond, watching, smiling.
A lump made its way up into my throat as I felt my eyes begin to well up. I watched the cradled stone enter the shallow water and find its way gently to the bottom. And there it would remain for years to come. Suddenly the light hit the water and reflected off the surface. I could see his engraved name shining through the reflection.
Then, in amongst the silence and quiet contemplation, I realised that letting go wasn't the same as losing. Sometimes in life we have to let go of people we love. But we never lose them. Their presence in our life makes us the person we are today and they will live forever in our hearts every step of the way...
In every sunset and every snowfall.

Changing flights

We stop walking and I plop the bags down at my feet. The goodbye. Surrounded by travellers and trolleys, the airport continues to buzz around us. It only feels like yesterday that I was walking out of this terminal into the warm evening air of São Paulo for the first time. Everything was new and exciting. Now it feels like home. I hate goodbyes the most. And so, with my wall up and a smile on my face, I give my friend a tight hug and thank her for a wonderful three months in her crazy city. Pushing back a tear I tell her I love her, that I will be back soon, and turn to walk through security. I don't look back.
38,000ft. high above the Atlantic Ocean once again, I watch the remaining rays of evening sun burn out over the wing and slowly disappear beneath the horizon. It's that moment when I know there is only a few seconds of light left before another day comes to a close. The other passengers are settled in for the night. Some are already covered in blankets, others shuffling pages of a magazine. But I am looking out across the sky. Constellations begin to come into focus through my frozen window, and once again I am lost in the night. High above the earth, invisible to everyone below.
Despite stories from loved ones, the city embraced me and kept me safe in her arms the entire time. And as the opening credits of a movie begin to fade in and out on the little screen in front of me, I can't help but wonder how this trip has changed me. Every journey in life takes us to a different place. Sometimes the changes are obvious, and others, so subtle that we can't quite put our finger on what is different within us. But whether we like it or not, change is inevitable. And once we embrace that, we become free of the past to live in the moment; free to sit back, relax, and enjoy the flight.

Santa in the sun

As I slip on my new favourite blue and white Havaianas, I grab my sunglasses and head out the door. It is another glorious day with not a cloud in the sky. An air-conditioned Metro train provides me with a brief, refreshing respite from the burning sun shining just above the surface. Back out onto the bustling street once more, a giant Santa Clause defiantly wears his warm woolly clothes and smiles through the heat. I see trees covered in baubles, penguins carrying presents and elaborate nativity scenes being played out, all in the Brazilian midday sun.
And that's when it hits me: I am 5,899 miles away from gloves and scarves, mince pies and mulled wine, ice-skates and log fires. A momentary pang of missing home wrings in my stomach and leaves behind a feeling that I just can't shake.
And then it suddenly occurs to me that a huge number of people in this wonderfully crazy city might not have ever seen snow before. I smile as I watch a snowball hurtling through my mind and go crashing into a happy snowman.
Shopping done, I trade in a mulled wine for a Caipirinha and sit watching the world go by. Our beautiful blue planet is home to over 7 billion people, all with different life experiences. But despite our differences, we all have the same beating hearts, hopes and fears.
And that's what makes us family.



As 2013 comes slowly to a close, I want to thank you for following my blog every week and being part of the journey. You add colour to my life and inspire me in ways you don’t know. I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year, and hope that 2014 brings you health and happiness!

With love!

Driving blind

And suddenly my ears pop; the sweet release of pressure.
Two and a half hours after leaving the city we begin to snake our way up through the mountain. I love to watch the world whizz by, getting lost in my thoughts. People and places wash in and out of my mind like a summer tide.
The weather is changing. Gone are the blue skies of earlier to be replaced by something else.
Carefully navigating a tight bend in the road, everything is suddenly smothered by a thickening white fog as horizon vanishes right in front of our very eyes. The car slows to a crawl as an eerie silence descends. I suddenly remember the foggy morning in East London that concealed Canary Wharf from view; a lost moment in time that now lives safely in my heart forever.
Higher and higher we drive, embraced tightly in the fog.
And my mind is racing. I can't help but wonder if, with all the challenges and choices in life, we don't all get lost in the fog sometimes. There are days when the sky is cloudless, blue, we know exactly where we are going. And then there are times when we just can't see the wood for the trees.
But sometimes a fog is there just to remind us that, as long as we stay true to ourselves and trust our intuition, we will eventually find our way through, once again breathing under a blue sky.
And just when I think that we are never going to get out of this, we turn a corner and discover a bright burning sun once more.

Spectacles spectacular

"Can I help you find somewhere?” the voice behind us speaks in a soft Portuguese accent. We must look a little lost in this new city - this city that I'm starting to fall in love with. I turn around to see a beautiful woman with a warm smile standing there. Our guardian angel chuckles to hear that we are looking for the 'Museu dos Óculos'. She puts us back on track and waves us on our way.
Eventually, we find ourselves walking in through the door of a stunning white and blue house lifted straight out of 1900's Italy which has since been converted into an opticians. After a few words with the receptionist I am relieved to discover that the museum lies just up some wooden stairs.
We are soon greeted in Portuguese by Ivani, a middle-aged woman with reddish curly hair. She has a warm face and an infectious laugh.
And so she walks and talks. We journey through the ages past silver monocles and ivory fans, across the 60's, 70's, 80's, and up to the designer sunglasses found in Vogue Magazine today.
There is something very lovely about this woman; we instantly have a connection.
After our personal tour I find out that she has been curating the free museum for over 17 years now with the love of her life. She gave up being the journalist for the Mayor of São Paulo and this was her personal collection.
We thank her for the tour as she gives us a tight hug. Suddenly she tips her head and says "coffee?"
Over steaming espressos we talk about travel, fate, and my love of Brazilian telenovelas. It was a perfect afternoon. We laughed a lot.
Then with one last hug we say goodbye to our new friend. She wishes us happiness on our journey and I'm suddenly touched by her kindness.
Walking out into the blazing afternoon sun once more, I can't help but smile.
It's strange where life can take us sometimes. The places we go and the people we meet along the way change us forever. And that afternoon, it only took 700 pairs of glasses to see that these little random moments are what makes this big crazy world so utterly beautiful.

Early hours of a new day

As cool rain beats down outside my window and splashes onto the empty pavement below, I open my eyes. It is still dark. Reaching out towards the wooden bedside table, I find my phone and gently press the home button. The screen jumps to life with a brightness that stings, and I watch as time flips from 00:59 to 01:00. The phone dims, and once again I am in darkness with just the sound of the downpour to keep me company. There is something deeply comforting about the noise filling the sleepy room. 

A memory of sitting in my dad's brick conservatory listening to the rain beat down onto the roof comes and goes, leaving me with a longing to see him.
I notice a small beam of street light spilling in through the shutters and have a sudden urge to see the city in the rain. And so I step sleepily out of bed and walk over to the window. As soon as I pop my head out into the night air my senses are awakened as Brazilian rain finds its way onto my face; it feels cool and fresh and lovely. 
I glance out over the sleeping houses and glistening trees, I think about the past few months and the thousands of miles I've travelled, physically and emotionally...
And as my eyes begin to feel heavy once more, I can't help but wonder what else there is out there to experience...

The change

The air is chilly. Something has changed. There were no fireworks, no announcements...just a simple glance downwards to spot the lone golden leaf adorning the evening pavement.
Trees will soon be bare and sunsets will arrive just that little bit earlier. And so comes the change.
The carefully packed boxes in my lounge suddenly make me realise that in two weeks, I will no longer be here - here in this flat, looking out over towards the glistening canal.
I will be gone.
As I watch summer skip merrily away for another year, I can't help but wonder what this new season will bring. Who will I be when the snow starts to fall?
A cold breeze whistles across my body and makes it shudder. Then as I zip up my hoodie, I look over towards the water. It is still flowing gently like it did the day before.
Then I realise something: As much as change can be scary, we have no choice but to embrace it. Whether we like it or not, everything on our beautiful planet changes every single day. It's meant to be that way. Every sunrise and season brings with it new opportunities; a chance to smile, to dance, to grow.
The cold pulls me out of my thoughts and I head inside. I lock the door, close my blinds, and turn on the lamp. The room is instantly bathed in a warm glow...and suddenly everything changes.

Gone fishing

I didn't know if it was the beer, the blazing sun, or a combination of the two, but I suddenly felt sleepy out on the river bank. It was nice to be away from the city for a few days, and for the first time in ages, I felt my mind soften around the edges.
As I finished the last of my drink, my friend turned to ask if I fancied doing a spot of fishing...A smile crept across my face as I found myself out on the deck of their narrow boat. After a quick lesson in the basics, my friend hopped back onto solid ground...and there I stood, alone in my thoughts, looking out across the river. The peacefulness of that moment was beautiful!
It didn't last long!
I watched the lure fly gracefully out across the water to land with a gentle splash once again...Then I felt my line pull...hard. The rod began to bend, and for a moment, I wondered if I had managed to get it caught again on some weed at the bottom. Within a few seconds, to my absolute horror, I pulled the line out of the water and found myself staring at a thrashing 25lb pike!
With that, I screamed, my friends came running, and passers-by stopped to see what was causing such a commotion. And so the battle to release the giant began...
The mere sight of its razor-sharp teeth coming towards me was enough to have me climbing up the railing away from it.
After what seemed like an age of twisting and struggling, I watched my friend bend down to place him back into the water from whence he came. He was finally home. Safe. Free.
Then as I looked down through the ripples, laughing with relief, I realised something: In life, there will always be challenges. Things happen unexpectedly to take us on a different journey. Sometimes we find ourselves in an unimagined future where we don't always get what we want...but occasionally, get just what we need.
And that night, as I looked out of the car window into the starry sky, I couldn't help but smile. This would forever be the day that I wrestled with a river monster, and won!