Itchy feet

Early morning sun bathes my entire body in its warm light...there's not a cloud in the sky. As I look up, my mind suddenly jumps into the cool pool in Switzerland that I used to lie by. The summers were long, and hot, and filled with love. The flash is instant, fleeting.
I watch as steam curls upwards out of my mug and disappears into the sky. The smell of cut grass blowing in the breeze instantly makes me close my eyes and breathe deeply. I love this smell!
My attention is drawn upwards by the sound of a helicopter flying overhead. Instantly I'm speeding through the air at 150mph, looking out once more across the Grand Canyon.
Alone in my thoughts, my mind continues to skip back and forth over all the places I've ever lived and been. Then a thought occurs to me. I suddenly wonder if my mum had once had dreams of standing on cool Italian marble, or warm Thai sand, on a bustling New York sidewalk or manicured grass in a Berlin Tiergarten. With this thought, a wave of urgency splashes over me as I wonder if there is enough time in the world to do everything I want to do. A Canada goose flies majestically along the canal and pulls me suddenly out of my reverie.
My feet are itching, ready for the next excellent adventure.
Sometimes in life, there are things that compel us forward, and things that hold us back. Whether it is love or fear that eventually drives us to another place, sometimes we just need to step out of our comfort zone to really discover where our happiness lies.

Step by step

Trainers laced, muscles stretched, I step out into the morning and hit the play button. The beat kicks in and I am off. Snaking my way down towards the canal, a light morning drizzle covers my face. Every stride forward lifts me further out of my sleepiness. I eventually settle into a comfortable pace as the path in front rolls towards my moving feet. I have really been enjoying these early morning runs of late, and despite this only being the third time in my new resolution, I am finding every step just that little bit easier, that little bit faster. A wave of contentment splashes over me as I breathe deeply. Endorphins rush in with a pumping new tune and I decide to speed up my run for a quick burst.
I want to go faster and further.
And just as the song hits the chorus, I accelerate. For a split second it feels as if I am lifting off the ground...and that's when it happens: the sudden searing pain in my left calf.
In less than three seconds, I find myself leaning against a tree with frustration and disappointment crashing heavily into me. How could this have happened? It was game over!
Taking a deep breath, I begin the long journey home, drizzle continuing to fall over my limping body.
And then I realise something...
Sometimes in life, change can take a while. It doesn't always play out like a cleverly cut montage in a movie, and as frustrating as it is, we can't rush the process. The journey is beautiful, and with just one perfectly small step, we take that giant leap right into our future.

The flower and the weed

Today, for the first in a long time, blazing sun greets me as I step out of the house. A slight breeze on my arms and a warmth on my skin tells me that our English summer is here. It seemed like the hovering grey clouds above would be a permanent fixture...but they are gone, for now. 
And as I walk past the grassy patch to my left, I see the beautiful little things that I used to love. Suddenly thrown back through time, I land in a field of daisies. There was something about the way they looked that always made me smile; like mini flowers growing wild, free.
Endless summers of playing out until the sun went down, of daisy chains, kiss chase, and he-loves-me-he-loves-me-not, float through my mind. I suddenly can't remember the last time I sat and played with the daisies...5, 10, 20 years ago?
There was something I heard once, I can't remember where or when: 'Weeds are just flowers in the wrong place.'
And as I look up into bright blue sky, I begin to wonder if the same can't be said of us too. Sometimes in life, we find ourselves in the company of people who can leave us feeling less-than. We can doubt our uniqueness and be labelled a weed. But that's the beautiful thing about us! We are all special in our own way, and like the mini flowers standing wild in the grass, we continue to grow and make the world a brighter place.

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.

The pursuit

And the game had begun. In hot pursuit of my suspect, I ran as fast as I could past my friend's front door with peeling red paint, past the corner shop selling all my favourite Cola Cubes, over the grass hill peppered with daisies upon which we occasionally danced, and out onto the small side street sloping all the way down towards the nursery. Approaching the only parked car on the quiet street, my walkie-talkie crackled with white noise as something caught my eye and glinted in the afternoon sun. I stopped suddenly to investigate, blocking out the voice now coming out over the airwaves. And there at my feet lay £10,000,000 worth of sparkling princess cut diamonds! Scooping them up carefully in my hands, I poured them into a pocket and got straight onto the walkie-talkie to excitedly announce that I had discovered the abandoned treasure from the heist. Ignoring the brick inside the car that had shattered the window into a million pieces the night before by a stranger, it was definitely the find of the century in this make-believe moment. 
Years later, I smile back at those long summer days of playing cops and robbers until the sun went down and of the time that broken glass was magically transformed into 1-carat pieces. 
Sometimes in life we get so lost in the pursuit of happiness, we can miss the beautiful moments that are already all around, glinting in the sun, just waiting to be discovered.

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...

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.

Timing

We grabbed our bags from the overhead bins and literally ran off the plane. The mad dash through Vienna airport to catch our connecting flight was hectic. With the doors closing in less than a minute, we weaved frantically in and out of the crowd. Stepping inside the warm cabin, hearts pounding, foreheads glistening, we made our way to our seats against a backdrop of sarcastic applause. I couldn't be bothered to explain about our aborted landing minutes earlier, and instead, decided to just sit and have a cold drink. And that's when I found a group of passengers sat in our seats, refusing to move. After a battle of words, the flight attendant came along, barked at us to disperse, and told us to find any free seat so that we could take off. And so I turned, left my friends, and made my way towards the back of the plane to squeeze in between two passengers who had absolutely no intention of allowing me past easily. This was going to be a long 11 hours! 

It wasn't until I eventually drifted off into a light sleep that I finally let go and began to look forward to seeing Thailand for the first time.
It was magical, enchanting, and life changing.
Then, the tsunami came.
The flight home was a bit of a blur. Looking around at the half-empty plane, a thought occurred to me. What if everything did indeed happen for a reason? What if we were meant to be late that evening so that those people could sit together one last time? Are we ever really late for anything, or do we always arrive at exactly the right moment?
Looking out down towards the clouds, tears rolling down my face, I said a quick prayer for everyone who wasn't on the plane, and made a vow to breathe with life, trusting that I will always be  where I am meant to be.

Winds of change

Sunday morning mist cloaks the horizon and conceals everything beyond the green grass outside my window. As I sleepily open up the terrace door and step out into the open, cool air rushes down into my lungs and I welcome this wake up call. Everything seems so peaceful this morning and I am momentarily lost in the quiet; nothing else exists beyond the colourful stripy chairs and empty plant pots that surround me. 
Breathing deeply, I turn to look over at Canary Wharf; it too has vanished in the mist and despite not being able to physically see it in this moment, accumulated hours of observing every contour, window, and reflection have left an imprint safely in my mind. I love this view. Memories of sitting outside on balmy summer evenings and looking over at the shimmering lights of the tower fills me with warmth.
My eyes follow the line down towards the empty wasteland immediately in the foreground...
The diggers arrived before Christmas, followed shortly by the majestic cranes. Earth was gracefully lifted and moved; holes were bored and cement was mixed. Every sunrise brought with it a change and slowly but surely, bit by bit, walls began to grow skywards.
Then I realised something; with each passing day, the clear view of the beautiful towers were slowly disappearing right in front of my very eyes. Soon, within a matter of weeks, they will be gone completely from sight...forever. The countdown has already begun.
The winds of change are blowing gently onto my face once again and now, looking over into the morning mist, I can't help but wonder if this is a sign that it might just be time to move on to the next adventure.

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.

First

Walking out into early morning, the sky, still a sleepy blue, begins to wake. It is literally freezing this morning. At some point during the night, whilst I was fast asleep, the first few flakes of snow fell silently to earth. The light bouncing off the crisp whiteness bathes me in its glistening glow. And then I hear it, I feel it...The sensation that suddenly floods my body with utter joy; snow crunching and compacting under my feet. Being one of my secret pleasures in life, I begin to smile as I take a deep in-breath of air and watch as a cloud of warmth leaves my body and vanishes just as quickly. 

With the realisation that this is the first snow of the year, I begin to think about all the other firsts in my life; the first time I came to this bustling city, alone...the first time I sat on a plane and watched the ground drift away...the first time I ate gelato...the first kiss...the first time I found love and the first time I lost it. 
Life is littered with firsts and, as constantly changing as the world is, that will never change. There are endless opportunities for new beginnings everywhere, and as I continue on my journey, I suddenly feel excited for all the firsts that are yet to come.

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.