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.

Sunday silence

Sunday morning, not a cloud in the sky. There's a peacefulness in the air that I've not felt in a while. With only a gentle breeze wafting through the branches, the city is unusually quiet. I am alone but for the bees buzzing from one purple Chive flower to the next. Taking a sip of my freshly brewed coffee, I suddenly notice patches of damp stone on the ground. It must have rained heavily last night. Somewhere lost in a dream, I was oblivious to the cool downpour.
As I look up at the giant tree at the bottom of the garden, I smile at last month’s discovery of Parakeets. Lime green with long elegant tails, I couldn't believe my eyes at first. They seemed strangely out of place. My mind jumps quickly to São Paulo - the crazy, giant city that I called home for a short while.
The sun on my neck feels warm and comforting. The smell of honeysuckle is delicious.
Then there's a loud bang of a door slamming open. A child cries and a mother shouts. A plane’s engines whir overhead and a dog barks in the distance.
My moment of peace vanishes in an instant.
But as the city slowly comes to life all around me, and a butterfly flutters softly past my face, I can't help but feel that everything is exactly as it should be.

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.

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!

A perfect drama

Beautiful men and glamorous women drink out of champagne flutes and talk in a language that I don't understand. I watch as words float poetically out of their perfect mouths and I'm caught up in the elegance.
Someone says something...and suddenly everything stops. The room falls silent as mouths fall open. Something is seriously wrong! What is going on? My brain can't make sense of the situation. After a minute or so of stunned silence, the screaming begins. The guests lash out at one other and start to claw viciously at expensive clothes. I need to know what's going on.
After some much needed translation, it turns out that the party was the pre-wedding dinner for the daughter who was about to marry her father but didn't know, then she finds out that he was not actually her real father anyway.
Alongside this, it was revealed that the man with perfect eyebrows had watched his sister deliver a baby in a bar toilet and had taken the baby off her to give to someone else to adopt. Well, now it turns out that he actually put the baby in a dumpster and left it there...well, that would account for the hysterics. My jaw is on the floor!
The mother of the man with the perfect eyebrows disowns her son and he is pushed forcefully down the stairs into the broken glass...
And then the credits roll against a backdrop of dramatic music.
I might just have witnessed the best telenovela in history, ever!
Laughing loudly against the theme tune, I realise something: no matter how difficult and challenging life can be sometimes, compared to what I've just witnessed, I'm living a doce vida.
And it's blissfully simple!

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...

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.

Connected

I love this time of day. The bustling city is changing gears to another pace. Final splashes of golden sun illuminate the grass below and cast shadows across the lawn as I sit looking out. Within a few short minutes, day will become night once more. I watch the last rays of evening light gently cover the city in its golden blanket, and even though there is still a pale blue sky, the street lamps have already come on to see us through the small hours.
Today I saw a picture of the earth taken from beneath Saturn’s rings. And today I saw a picture of a train wreck...I will go to sleep this night, a different person.
As I look down towards my hands, I suddenly notice the orange stains from the dead lilies that I placed into the bin earlier. An image of the child presenting the bouquet to me last week flashes through my mind, making me smile; gestures of kindness and gratitude that will never be forgotten.
I read somewhere that London was hotter than Bali! These warm summer days quickly give way to cool nights, and as a chill blows across my skin, I realise that the shadows are no more; we have spun away from the sun.
I am contemplating going inside for a hot Green tea when a thought occurs to me: In this moment, everything is happening; someone is laughing, and someone is crying; someone is arriving, and someone is dying. With 7.1 billion of us all sharing this planet, we are connected in ways we don't even know; variations of a theme with beating hearts and hopes and fears. We are family.
And as I make my way inside to put the kettle on, I know I'm not the only one.

5-a-day

Feeling the first few drops of cool summer rain splash against my skin, I step casually into the quiet cocoon of the supermarket and snatch a basket from the pile as I walk past. Hit by an air-conditioned breeze, I instantly feel refreshed and ready to tackle the maze. And so I move forward into the aisle, suddenly engulfed by towering shelves and eye-catching labels. Plucking items from their metal branches, I place them one by one into my basket and continue onwards. Finally reaching the colourful fruit and veg, I stop to run through the list in my head and make my way over to the bright red peppers. My favourite song of the moment begins to play joyfully through blue headphones into my ears and I begin to think about what it means to get our 5-a-day. I have a new routine. My gratitude 5-a-day. Every night as I gently drift off to sleep, I run through the day and pluck out 5 things that I am grateful for: lessons learnt, conversations with friends, being lucky enough to see the sunset.... It's amazing how once we take a moment to really look at our life, we see how much we really have. Even on our darkest days, there is always something lying just under the surface to be thankful for.
And as I make my way through the checkout and back out towards the exit, I see that the rain is coming down heavily now...and I smile. Soon I will be home, safe and sound, grateful for the food in my bags and the music in my ears.

Click, flash

A generation gone stares back at me through a sepia-toned window. As soon as I open the dusty album, images and associations splash silently over me. Relatives I once knew and loved smile joyfully through the lens, straight into my heart; some proudly wearing medal-embellished uniforms, others sporting the latest beehive hairdos equally as proud.
I look on as page after page reveals another connection to my past, another piece of the puzzle.
And then, just as I am beginning to get lost on this little trip, a wave of melancholy gently washes over me as I am reminded of how fleeting everything is. Life seems to go by at such velocity these days, we can sometimes forget to take the moment to stop and notice all the amazing things that surround us; people we love, the random acts of kindness, lessons learnt through tears.
We click and capture those precious memories that act as a witness to our own personal journey, and despite being utterly powerless to alter our past, there is a freedom in the knowledge that we still have today...a chance to grow, to change, to fly.
And as I optimistically turn the final page of this dusty collection, I can't help but wonder about all the albums that are yet to come; pages of moments that will last an eternity.

Dust down

As I bang my hand onto the chair's stripy blue canvas, particles of a season's worth of settled dust are released out into the air. It suddenly hits me how long it has been since I've sat out here. Apart from the semi-constructed concrete shell blocking the once uninterrupted view of Canary Wharf, my physical surroundings are exactly the same.
And so I sit, looking out over towards the flowing canal which lies just beyond budding branches. For a long time it seemed as if everything had died; barren limbs blew patiently in the breeze, waiting for the moment of change. They waited and waited, never giving up hope, stoic against frosty mornings and stormy evenings. It looked as if they would remain this way forever...
Then, just like clockwork, everything began to change. The sun came out and bathed everything in its warmth.
Something catches my eye, pulling me out of my reverie. As I look down towards the daisy-filled grass, I notice a bumblebee making its way through the air and come to rest on a clover patch. It is the first one I've seen in months and heralds a new beginning.
I am suddenly struck by how delicate life really is; it is precious, and beautiful, and amazing, and perfectly imperfect. Beneath heartbreak and struggle, something truly special lies. Seasons change and people grow, and even in our darkest days, in incredible ways, life has a way of making us smile once again.



My love goes out to everyone touched by tragedy, and pray that one day, you too will smile once more.

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...

Stroll

For the first time in ages, I am not in a rush. Not late, not hurried, at peace. Dusk is quickly setting in as I stroll along Southbank and up towards the National Theatre. 
The last remaining rays of evening sun reflect off the rippling water to give everything one last burst of light, before vanishing for another day. Within a few minutes, it will be night-time, and the illuminated iron lamps will guide the way.
I love it here.
Boats hypnotically snake their way along the current-filled river and I watch as the undulations are momentarily displaced before calming again, leaving no trace whatsoever that the vessels were ever there.
And I continue onwards under the protecting canopy of trees, breathing deeply once again as a light evening drizzle blows in and gently places a cool mist onto my face. The city has been harsh lately and I welcome its gentle embrace once again. I have wanted this, needed this. 

Sometimes in life, things get difficult; swallowed up by identical days and freezing nights, it’s easy to get lost in the maze; but somewhere, buried deep in the solitude of restlessness, lies something beautiful, calming. We all need these moments of quiet to reset, and as the colourful banners of the theatre come into view, I’m suddenly struck by how important it is to have people in our life who will love us unconditionally and always be there for us when things get tough.

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.

The gap

As I pull my favourite blue Japanese cotton scarf up around my ears, I make my way down the steps and onto the empty platform. For some reason there doesn't seem to be a soul around this evening. I walk up to the pillar that holds up the roof, and lean against it. For a brief moment, I am lost in the music flowing through my earphones and straight into my heart. There has been a chill in the air of late and for the first time this season, I watch as warm breath leaves my body and disappears into the cool wintry night.

And so I lean with hands in pockets, looking down along the silvery tracks that snake off miles into the distance.

Then something pulls my focus.

I glance down and notice three words printed boldly onto the cold concrete. How had I missed them until now?

MIND THE GAP.

These ten little letters suddenly get my mind spiralling off as I begin to think about the gaps in our lives. The space we have to cross to get to where we want to be and the things we tell ourselves along the way: I will be happy once I've lost the weight, and got that job, fallen in love and made that money...And when we eventually do get these things, we barely notice their presence in our lives because we are too busy thinking about how we won't be happy until we get that car and go on that holiday, have the baby and get that promotion.

I can't help but wonder if we are always in the gap. That space in between where we have just come from and where we are going. And maybe that's all there is anyway.

And could it be that within this gap lies our true potential? The potential to be courageous, loving, forgiving, inspiring, creative, generous, sparkling and fabulous?

Disappearing dusk

It's already begun. No longer evening, not quite night. I'm in the space in between where the sun gives one last push of brilliance before disappearing completely; a final flourish as the curtain comes down.
Colours grow sharper and the shadows on the grass below lie elegant, long. They seem to stretch out to forever.
I glance up just as a plane full of people powers higher and higher into the sky and sweeps away from City Airport, climbing further from the ground with every second. Soon we will all just look like ants.
The light is changing. The window is closing and everything that was bathed in a hyper-real glow is starting to fade.
This is the end. And also the beginning.
I wonder about tomorrow. I wonder about the many things it holds gently in its hands for me and how with every sunset, we imperceptibly change.
The air is getting cooler now and I briefly consider going inside to grab my blue jumper when something stops me. The edge of Canary Wharf is suddenly illuminated with my personal sunset. It happens most evenings and only ever lasts for a few minutes, but every single time, I'm awe-struck. Feeling my lungs fill with air, a wave of hope washes over me as I realise how much potential there is within each and every one of us.
The shadows on the grass below have now disappeared into the dusk and in a moment I will pick up my cup and head inside. The door will close and the blind will be pulled across. The lamp will go on and tea will be poured. But right now I am blinded by the reflection of the sun.
And it is beautiful.