Morning Love

Sunday morning and the city is slowly waking. Apart from a light breeze that strokes the branches overhead, everything is still.
Steam swirls up and out of my yellow mug. It sits next to my red smoothie. And I’m looking out into the world.
The daffodils that I placed in the vase a couple of days ago are beginning to open up.
It’s Valentine’s Day.
As I stretch myself awake, the puppy comes hurtling through the door like a flash of black lightning. Within a second she is all over me, tail wagging furiously. And so we play. She tries to lick my face and nibble my hand. I tickle her. It ends with her on her back for a belly rub. I watch her close her eyes and get lost in the joy. I chuckle. She loves me, there’s no doubt.
As we snuggle up, I begin to think about love and its many different forms. There is the love that we have for our animal buddies and the love that we get from our family; The supporting love of friends and the all-consuming love of a partner.
And then there’s everything else in-between.
Whether it be the deepening bond of a relationship, or a random act of kindness towards a stranger, love changes the world. It is everything.
But the most important love is the one we have for ourselves. And when that love is unconditional, we become limitless.

Somewhere in between the trees

I step out into the cool morning air and pull the door closed gently behind me. I walk down the path and zip up my coat before reaching the gate.
Sunday morning in the city: quiet, damp, peaceful.
There is a still in the air that provides a perfect backdrop to my footsteps on the ground. My neighbours aren’t up yet. It feels as if the flying Parakeets and I are the only ones awake.
I snake my way up towards the common and into the woods. The familiar smell of rich earth and bark hits me, instantly filling my lungs. The ground is soft underfoot. I feel every single muscle in my body relax and release for the first time in ages.
And on I walk, hands in pockets, my mind a million miles away.
Past the tall Oak and just before the tangled blackberry bush, I am lost in my thoughts.
I wonder about where this year has gone. I wonder about my summer of love. And I wonder if letting go will ever get any easier for this amplified heart.
The rain that fell in the early hours of the morning glisten on the branches overhead.
And I’m suddenly struck by how beautiful everything looks. In amongst the weathered trees and fallen leaves, I dare to hope once more.

Boxfresh

It was a beautiful spring afternoon when I first spotted them. I wasn't even searching - they just appeared out of nowhere.
Completely smitten, I walked through the doorway and stepped onto the escalator. I watched shoppers glide down in the opposite direction, occasionally making eye contact with me.
I made my way over to the wall and plucked them from the shelf. Sitting down, I took off my well-worn shoes and laced up the new ones.
The second I saw their reflection in the mirror, I knew they were meant for me.
I was crazy in love.
And so, later that evening as a burning sunset surrounded us, we stepped out together for the first time.
We danced, carefree, into the early hours of the morning. We went out for brunch the next day. For a walk in the afternoon. And the cinema that evening. It was perfect.
Until they began to hurt. A lot.
Firm leather had started to rub unforgivingly on my ankle and Achilles heel. Every step was agony. The further I walked, the more uncomfortable they became. The sides continued to dig in cruelly, forgetting all the good times we were having together. The honeymoon was over.
I stoically wore them every day that week. Some days were worse than others.
Meanwhile, all around me, flowers were bursting out of the ground and nests were being built high up in the trees.
And then, one day, I noticed that the pain had completely vanished. There was no longer any rubbing or discomfort. All that remained was the gentle click-clack of soles meeting the pavement – just my handsome new shoes and I under a perfect blue sky.
And in amongst the swirling cherry blossom, I suddenly felt very lucky: Lucky to be healthy, alive, and surrounded by love.

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.

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.

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.

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!

The people in the picture

The afternoon sun is scorching. With barely a cloud in the sky, the only respite from the searing heat comes from an odd gust of breeze that randomly circles around the square and disappears just as quickly. 

And there he stands; brush in hand, bold of stroke. Framed either side by a row of majestic palms, I stand mesmerised by his poetry. The colours are bright and the paint, thick. He seems oblivious to everyone who dances in and out of his periphery. The only thing that exists is the Catedral da Sé in front of him. It captured his imagination and is now being brought to life through the canvas. They have a connection that I will never have. He switches brushes. I watch as he coats the hair in yellow and continues on, adding more detail to his creation. Passers-by stop momentarily to watch. And then I suddenly notice the people in the painting, frozen in a moment. I wonder where the man in the red top is now. And the child in the buggy. And the woman in yellow. Did she make her way up the stone steps into the cathedral, or did she disappear down into the Metro and is now standing on a crowded train homeward-bound? 

As I eventually say goodbye to the man and his canvas, a thought occurs to me: we encounter so many people on the journey through life, our paths cross for only a second. Sometimes we share words, sometimes just a glance. But regardless of whether people live inside a painting or in our heart, everyone has a story to tell, and underneath it all, we are family.

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.

Sun and Samba

I'm up on the 11th floor looking down. The buzz of the city wafts up on currents of warm Brazilian air and carries with it bouncing Samba beats from musicians at a private party somewhere down below.

Today I spotted my first wild Parakeet. Flapping gracefully past the lush foliage, its beautiful bright green wings seemed to glint in the early evening sun.

And today I had my first Caipirinha. The lime infused cocktail that made my taste buds explode and awakened my senses, left me with just the right amount of afternoon sleepiness as we stepped out of the bar and into the sun.

The streets of London seem a million miles away now. I crossed over the Western Sahara and the Atlantic Ocean just to be here. And now that I am, the world suddenly seems a few degrees brighter than it did just a few short days ago.

The sun that I love so much beats gently down onto my body as it gratefully laps up every last ray. A sudden wave of happiness rushes over me as I realise that I'm right where I'm meant to be.

They say that home is where the heart is, and as I think about all the people in my life that I love so very dearly, I realise that no matter where I go, and whatever I do, I will always carry them around with me in my heart, never leaving, nested inside my travelling home.

The final burst

The final rays of golden sun shine directly onto my face; it is too bright to see anything in front of me. And so, blinded by the light, I close my eyes and feel the warmth gently embrace my entire body. 
I love evening sunsets; everything slowly winding down for another day. Lost in thought, I suddenly feel a slight drop in temperature as the sun is momentarily hidden behind a passing cloud, giving me space to open my eyes once again. It takes a second for them to adjust. Light reflects off the river and bounces out across the city. Sitting on my concrete ledge, I watch as one by one, people pass me and lean against the barrier above the sun-sparkled water. Everything seems to slow right down as we all join together to watch the last of the day's sun give one brilliant final burst across the city. Towers glint in the distance and water is sprayed up by a passing catamaran. And on we gaze, all connected in the moment. Still. Grateful. At peace.
My attention is drawn down towards a tiny boy who runs past me into his daddy's arms. As they both chuckle to each other, I get a fleeting glimpse of my own son. If I had one, we would sit out here together and watch the sun go down over the horizon with Cutty Sark resting majestically behind us. 
It will soon be time for me to get up and meet my friends in the restaurant...
But for now, I'm smiling at this gift of spending a little time on my own. Time to just be. To breathe. To love. To smile. And sweep back my wind-ruffled hair.

Homeward bound

As the train speeds through the tunnel, music floats into my ears. Scenes from earlier splash into my mind and begin to overlap: My friend's sweet little boy roaring like a monster, her lovely twin daughters randomly discussing Hula Hoops, us reminiscing about days gone by, and the rain that began to fall lightly over our picnic, making us pack up and call it a day...

Then I suddenly remember the old man playing a piano in the main concourse of St Pancras station just moments before we said goodbye. We stood there transfixed, watching him lost in his music, us getting lost in him.

My reverie speeds up time, and before I know it, I am standing on the wet evening platform once again, close to home. I watch the train disappear into the distance and suddenly realise that there is no one else around. I feel the light drizzle on my face and stand looking up into a darkening sky. Right at this moment, my friend and her family are speeding out of the city, whilst the piano man is settled in his seat, dozing peacefully as his train sways onwards.

And as I walk down the length of the platform towards the stairs, a thought occurs to me: even if I had wanted to, with all the will in the world, I couldn't have orchestrated this exact evening: The piano man, the picnic in the rain, the moments we laughed; all set against a dark blue, late August sky.

And all it takes is a second...a second to stop, a moment to realise, that we have so much more to be grateful for than we will ever know.

The boy who changed the world

Our darling Alex,

I'm sitting here with coffee in hand, watching the airport slowly come to life all around me. There is a little truck filling up the plane, and directly above, a half-moon shines dimly behind drifting clouds. 
The sun is not yet up, but already I've thought about you a hundred times. I feel you everywhere; you never left us. 
I turn my head just in time to see a plane rumbling noisily down the runway and gracefully lift off into the early morning sky - it is your daddy. 
Suddenly, a memory flashes into my mind. I'm back in the church, with you by my side. And as the Lord's Prayer wafts gently out over the pews, I close my eyes and say a prayer of my own...a prayer for the little boy with a gigantic heart. 
You taught me that we can be much stronger than we ever thought possible, and frankly, my darling, I've never met anyone braver or stronger than you...and doubt I ever will again. 
You are bigger than your body gave you credit for, and because of you, I now believe in angels and tiny miracles. 
You laughed when they gave you an hour, and you laughed at a week, a month, a year. Only now, I realise that you had something else in mind; that defiantly cheeky smile of yours said everything we needed to know. The smile that lit up a room will light up my heart, forever! 
We have been changed by you, and will never be the same again. 
The world is just that little bit brighter, that little bit warmer, and all because of you... 
Wherever we go, and whatever we do, you will always be carried in our hearts, safe and warm inside. 
Thank you, little bird, for being the sunlight in our dawn, our angel in the snow. 

Always...

Dancing in the next room

I cut a rectangle out of the blank, red card and watched as the remainder fell gently down onto the desk. Laid out before me, sparkling glitter, colourful pens, scrunched up tissue paper, and smelly white glue waited patiently to be transformed into something beautiful. And so, I began creating with all the other children in the class. I glanced around the room to see paper flowers and tissue hearts being fixed enthusiastically into place. We made those cards every year for Mother's Day, and every time, I couldn't help but wonder where she was.
So I would sit, drifting off to another place...
And suddenly I saw all the mothers on the other side. Lifting trailing skirts up off the floor, they span around and around, laughing heartily as they twirled. Hair flew weightlessly in the breeze; eyes sparkled as they danced on and on, as free as birds. Bodies moving to the music without a care in the world; it's the dance of the mothers, dancing of angels. Swapping tales of their loved ones in the next room, they laughed affectionately until their sides hurt. The connection between here and there, them and us: unbreakable...
Suddenly, my attention was pulled away from the spectacle and once again, I found myself back in the classroom with glitter-covered fingers and a smile on my face.
Years later, even now when I dance, I will occasionally think of her spinning around next to me as the music plays on, happy in the knowledge that the ones we love never really leave us.


Happy Mother's Day to all the beautiful women out there, shining their love for all to see.

Tin house, warm heart

As I turned the corner, I saw it; half tin, half brick, my friend's house stood on the estate, unassuming. For years I had heard every derogatory word used to describe him and his family from the other kids...but he was nice and despite getting some stick, I thought it rude to refuse a dinner invitation. So here I was, straight from school walking up to the front door. As soon as it swung open a beautiful woman stood there and warmly welcomed me into her home. I stepped inside. It wasn't until the door closed behind us that I noticed the cardboard boxes piled high along one of the walls. As I took off my coat, curiosity got the better of me and I couldn't help but peep inside an open one which sat there, tempting. There before me lay a veritable feast of teeny Christmas cracker novelties; puzzles, dice, magic tricks, key rings, mini tool kits, fortune telling fish, plastic rings, Tidily Winks, tiny playing cards and colourful whistles - all the good stuff that used to put a smile on my face as they came flying out with a paper hat and witty joke. To me, his mum officially had the best job in the world. 
After a short while she came out of the kitchen and proudly put bowls of food down in front of us. "This is Frankie’s favourite", she declared with a warm smile. 

And then it hit me...

The love that was present in that room was far greater than all the things they didn't have. They really didn't own much at all, but in spite of that, I was sat at their table sharing their food. It was a lovely evening. 

Years later I look back at that moment and realise something; in life, we may not be financially abundant or have all the latest shiny must-have gadgets, but as long as we have love in our hearts and a generosity of spirit, we will always be wealthy beyond our wildest dreams.

Journey on

The first candle I lit was for the little nana with a penchant for crochet and sparkly things, then another for the little school children I didn't know, then one for the brave woman who battled courageously right up until the very end, and one for the spirited man who simply gave up, tired and ready for the next adventure...I had lit too many candles this year. I was tired and emotionally drained. Nothing appeared to make any sense and the world was like a crazy ball of discordant mess.
And so, on the last day of the year, I closed my eyes and began to breathe…in and out, in and out, my lungs filling my chest. Overexposed snapshots came and went in a blur. Suddenly, in amongst the slideshow, a memory of being inside the Olympic stadium and the wall of sound that pounded straight into my heart flashed up. It was spectacular. Aside from all the tears and loss, this would also be the year that I witnessed determination and strength on a magnificent scale. I saw athletes without legs running faster than lightening and limbless swimmers moving gracefully through the water to a backdrop of rapturous applause and incredible support.
And then, as the clock struck midnight, in amongst all the fireworks and cheers, I realised something: There will always be new beginnings. Opportunities to heal and grow are everywhere because we are amazing and life goes on. Our spirits are strong and so is the love we hold in our hearts.
May you shine brightly in 2013 and find joy in everything you do.


Thank you so much for faithfully following my blog and for being a part of this incredible journey. I love you.

Sticks and stones

I didn't really see it coming at first. It arrived like a bolt out of the blue. The thing that first registered was the dull thud as the fist slammed into my face. Shockwaves suddenly rushed around my body like a fiery electrical storm. Adrenaline began to pump as I held back the tears. They would not get to see them today, they didn't deserve them. And so I fought them back harder than I had ever done before. Names continued to fly at me and echoed around my mind. Upon seeing our teacher striding across the school playground, the bullies fled and I suddenly found myself standing alone once again; saved by the dinner bell.
Growing up, we are all told about sticks and stones, but the part about names never hurting us has never quite rung true. I, like most people on this planet, know that they can absolutely hurt...deeply.
Sometimes people can say wounding things. Sometimes they sting momentarily and sometimes, the effects can last a lifetime.
But underneath everything, when someone throws something hurtful our way, it is never really about us to begin with. They always reveal much more about the other person and once we realise this, it makes it easier for us to forgive and move on.
So when you think you're not special enough or good looking enough or clever enough or thin enough, I am here to tell you that you are! You are perfectly amazing just the way you are and there is not a single person on this entire planet that is identical to you. No one!

The Queen of Hadleigh

'I postpone death by living, by suffering, by error, by risking, by giving, by losing'
- Anais Nin

And I ran though the moving crowd, weaving in and out of suits and bags and shoes and limbs. Pushing forward through a rush hour of people, it was warfare; the quicksand making everything more difficult. And I carried on fighting forward until the call came... It was too late. She had gone! And everything suddenly stopped.

The door opened and there she stood; bright red lipstick highlighting her cheeky smile. She would always kiss me on my lips with such delicateness, inside I would smile. And there we would sit for ages surrounded by colourful crochet and ornaments and fabric flowers and the gas fire and small ornamental furry cats and sepia toned pictures hanging proudly on the walls. A room filled with trophies of a life fully lived. Every now and then the sound of a snooker ball crashing into another followed by muffled applause would float out of the TV to catch her attention just long enough for me to stare at this frail, curly haired funny woman who fascinated me.
Reaching the front door she stopped and turned to the cupboard beneath the stairs. I always knew what was coming but managed to appear pleasantly surprised every time. Rummaging around for a moment she span around like a magician to reveal a tiny bag of sweets which she had pre-prepared in little clear plastic bags. There was always a treasure of sweet treats to leave with and I always felt the overwhelming urge to squeeze her so tightly when we hugged. And there she stood, waving and watching until we were finally out of sight.
In life, people come and go. Some stay for only a few minutes and others, a lifetime. And if we are really lucky, these people will leave an indelible mark on our hearts and there they will live eternally making us a better person in the process.

Nana Queenie, I love you and wish you joy on your new adventure.

59 seconds

59 seconds...
My arms fling around her neck and I pull her in tightly. There we stand in our embrace. The world stops spinning as I feel her chest move in and out with every breath. I can smell her perfume. It throws me right back. With all my might, I pull away and look into her smiling face. Her auburn hair glistens in the sun and is blown ever so gently in the breeze.
47 seconds...
I am finding it hard to form words but I know that I don't have long.
"I have so many questions to ask, I don't know where to begin. Where have you been all this time? I couldn't find you anywhere".
She smiles.
"I didn't go anywhere, my darling. I have been here with you the whole time. Remember the day you stood looking over at the ocean and tears ran down your face? I was there holding you. Just look in the mirror; you have my eyes".
30 seconds...
"Do you have any regrets?"
She thinks about this question for a second.
"Life is too short for regrets, my angel boy. Every choice we make takes us to another place. There is no right or wrong; just life experience. We always get to where we are meant to be eventually anyway. Trust your instincts".
18 seconds...
A breeze picks up and swirls pink blossom around us.
"Why does life sometimes feel so hard? Some days it feels impossible to move through".
Her hands lift up towards my face and as they hold onto me, she looks directly into my eyes.
"There will always be challenges to overcome. That is part of life. Please remember, these are only opportunities to show the world who you really are. We are stronger than our bodies give us credit for. Use these times to shine, my darling boy".
7 seconds...
A wave of anger washes over me as I realise that this is it.
"I miss you so much. I wish you were always here. I have so many questions still to ask".
"I know my angel, I know. Everything we need to know is inside each and every one of us. Never forget how much I love you. I live in your heart. You are never alone".
1 second...
I hug her so tightly; I worry that she might break. The wind picks up...and she is gone.
Just one more minute.


If you could have just one minute more, what would you ask?

Cloudy morning

I close my eyes just as the watery Sunday morning sun finally pushes its way through grey clouds and lands gently on my face. The warmth quickly penetrates my skin and, for a few seconds, I am transported to a desert island somewhere with nothing but the lapping waves around me to keep me company. I am at peace and my mind is still from relentless chatter. Sensing my leave of absence, the clouds pull together and protectively cover the source of light. The air once again turns cooler as the sky closes in.
The squawk of geese flying overhead sends my mind racing once again. In the distance, through a gap in the clouds, bright rays begin to burst through and I wonder who is feeling it on their skin right now. I think about everyone who I have in my life; family, friends, Facebook pals; each and every connection just as important in my life story. A growing cast in the play, all feeling the sun on their faces at different times.
I realise right at this very minute, there are many people scattered across various parts of our planet, somewhere, who I love dearly. Some are probably laughing, some possibly crying but all of them, certainly feeling something.
The air is slowly changing. I can feel it. Soon the clouds will move south to reveal a bright blue, sparkling sky. Until then, I will watch and wait, happy in the knowledge that someone, somewhere is basking in the sun.

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