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.

Another Journey

I'm up above the clouds once more. From 38,000ft up, I can see for miles. My magazine is closed on the table. A clear plastic cup containing what’s left of my sky-high cocktail, a small piece of ice and half a lemon slice sits next to it. I look out over the horizon. We soar high above white, fluffy clouds.
I used to wonder, as a child, what it would be like to be this far off the ground. I remember sitting in class, looking out over the cross-county field towards the airport runway and watching the planes take off one by one. I would dream of all the places in the world that I could visit one day, and of all the colourful people I would meet along the way.
As we bank gracefully left, the sun glares through the window and temporarily blinds me. I close my eyes. And within this isolation, a feeling of peace floods my body. I am free as a bird as I doze off into a light sleep.
The sound of the trolley being pushed back up the aisle for the final time pulls me gently back. Soon we will begin our descent. Soon we will be walking through passport control. Soon I will be boarding the DLR. And soon I will be back in my bedroom. Night will come, dawn will break, and there will be a new beginning once again.

Andalusian Dusk

There's only a few minutes left of day. The air is changing right in front of my very eyes. Soon, the sun will be gone and I will be indoors, sitting beside a roaring fire.
The mountains begin to turn a deep shade of red.
I tip my head backwards and see white contrails cutting diagonally across a dusky sky. I follow the plane’s journey as it makes its way over the mountain to disappear from sight. I wonder about all the people up there; some will be reading, some watching a movie, some dozing lightly.
In the distance, a pack of dogs bark as a chainsaw revs up. There is smoke billowing from a blaze somewhere up in the mountains.
And I breathe in deeply. The delicate scent of pink almond blossom rushes into my nose as I realise that change has come in…again.
It was so warm today, I felt my body relax and soak up every last ray of Andalusian sun. But now I zip up my jacket against the chilled evening air.
And as the birds make their final flight of the day back towards their nest, I pick up my phone and empty coffee cup to make my way indoors. Just as I am about to head up along the dusty path, something makes me stop. There, just poking out from behind a eucalyptus tree, sits a gigantic moon. And so I stand there for a while, holding my things, looking up into the evening sky. As a cool breeze blows through the trees, I can't help but feel that everything is exactly as it should be.

Travelling Companion

The first time I ever laid eyes on you, you were looking out through a window on Charing Cross Road. I knew instantly that you were the one. I stepped in from the cold...and the rest is history.
Our history - it was all meant to be. I will never forget the moments that we’ve shared together. My faithful one. You were there when I began my journey through Italy, and there as I walked into the Brazilian night. We've seen sleepy, romantic lakes and exciting new cities. I’ve lost count of the number of hotel rooms we’ve slept in over the years. The familiar click of a heavy door shutting behind us will stay with me forever.
We’ve been on quite a journey, you and I.
Do you remember the times we ran through airports with seconds to spare? Or the ones where we soared peacefully above oceans below?
We’ve struggled over cobbles and glided over concrete; travelled on tracks and roads and currents of air. You’ve been lifted and pulled and dragged and thrown. And still you stayed right by my side. There as I cried in the rain. And kissed in the dark. And laughed on a train. And fell. And got back up again.
So seeing your handle, finally broken and sitting next to a bin, makes me a little sad - sad that you will never again be hauled off a carousel in a brand new country. And sad that you won’t get to see my face as I laugh once again at the little moments that life can bring.
But with every ending comes a new beginning.
And I look forward to the day when you return, in a different form, to once again run with me through an airport with just seconds to spare.

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.

The music and the moments

A light early morning drizzle comes to rest gently on my face. I close the front door and breathe deeply. Pressing play, my short journey begins. I take the shortcut though the passageway towards the common. ‘No Doubt’ come playing out of my earphones. It seems that lately I’ve been listening to this album on a loop. In years to come, I wonder if the memories of now will come flooding back the second I hear these songs again.

An old lady comes shuffling along in the opposite direction. With a half-full shopping bag, she looks up at me. We catch each other’s eye, and for a few seconds we are connected. Her face is gentle and kind. And in our fleeting moment together, we smile. Everything seems to suddenly stop. Then, as she slips out of view, I wonder what she has experienced in life: her hopes, her dreams, her lessons.
I am lost in my thoughts as I continue onwards.
I see the man at the bus stop holding his son’s hand - I think of my dad. I see the lady pushing a newborn baby – I think of my friend. I see the guy who looks like someone I once loved – I wonder where he is now.
Flashes of moments come and go in the drizzle - a Saturday morning stroll through my past.
And as I arrive at the small supermarket, I wonder where my new friend is - the man who sells the Big Issue, with a face that could light up a room, is not there. Maybe I will see him next week.
I suddenly smile thinking about all the people in my life - the people who have been there right from the beginning, and the ones who will be there right at the end.
And then there are those who I have yet to meet…

The edge of tomorrow

Another train journey, another fiery sunset burning across the sky.
People on the carriage are reading, and texting, and stretching and dozing. I want to pick up the book that I’ve been trying to finish for the past month…but I'm too sleepy. The music playing deep in my ears seems to be putting me into a trance. Lost in my thoughts, I drift over the trees towards the glowing horizon. The last of the day’s light reflects off glass and steel, temporarily blinding me between buildings.
Events of the past year have left me tired and disorientated.
Flying halfway back across the world, I discovered a new home and a new chapter.
I said ‘I love you’ to my mum for the last time, immensely grateful for one final, beautiful conversation. I’ve cried though two funerals of people I adored, and danced at the arrival of my gorgeous baby niece - The cycle of life, of love never-ending.
The train is warm and cosy. With hot air wafting out through vents under the seats, I unzip my coat. My hand reaches up towards the ice-cold window as we continue to speed through the city.
And I close my eyes.
There is a second where everything seems to stop spinning, just for the briefest of moments. Lost somewhere in-between the end of today and a new beginning, I suddenly feel at peace.
And as the final hours of this year drift slowly away, I am hopeful for a brighter tomorrow.
Hopeful for more love, more light, more laughter.

My love to you all, always.

Fall

Rain falls hard onto cold concrete slabs. Black umbrellas and glistening shoes surround me. I watch as people weave in and out of each other, hurrying to get home from a day at the office. I feel a strange comfort in the sound of the drops bouncing heavily off my umbrella. A memory of lying inside my tent in the pouring rain flashes through my mind and suddenly makes me feel 11 again. I am lost in the downpour.
And on I walk; people weaving, water falling, iPod playing - one foot in front of the other taking me closer to home.
A change of song and I’m suddenly aware that my face is wet. It takes me a moment to realize that it is not coming from the rain. Another wave of grief washes over me as I think of my lovely lady, gone.
There are times in our life when we fall. Whether from a break-up, the loss of a loved one or the many other things that life can sometimes throw in our path, one thing is for certain; nothing is final. Moments pass and eventually we find our feet. We change every day and grow in ways invisible to the naked eye.
The places we go and the people we meet will stay with us forever, etched in our heart like a heart in a tree.
And just when I think the rain is never going to end, the first few rays of a setting sun break out from behind the grey clouds…and change begins to happen once again.

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.