Please don't wish away our seasons.

 Please don’t wish away our seasons.

 

Evenings are darker, cosy. I’m focused. Lighting candles is cute as pie, but I don’t want summer over.

Why do we post online about ‘feeling autumnal’? 

So we can light pumpkin candles and film a home sense haul?

Next, it will be excitement bundled into soft white fairy lights on top of a decision to ‘real-tree or not to real-tree’. 

January, we speak of the most depressing days, darkness and eager wishing time away moods.  

Finally, crocuses, spring, sunbeams trying hard. We rejoice before heading to the shops for summer wear. My feet long for sand, all-inclusive cobblestones and free towel exchanges on the sunbeds. 

September, school is back, dew on the grass. 

November, frost, fireworks, bonfire-lit faces. 

 

Our seasons all bring joy. Embrace those moments, for all that they are. 

If we don’t know winter, we can’t know summer, if we don’t know joy, we can’t know sadness. Light and shade, ups and downs. Human experiences are defined by moments of wonder, surprise, newness. 

Let’s not wish away these precious seasons.

Week 1 of lockdown - Life has gone missing

"Take a sparkler, take a sparkler!" I said through a gravel throat with excitement. 

The NHS were enjoying our applause on the doorsteps as we felt a lump in our throats. More than ever, they were stepping up to the plate while some of us feel like we want to complain about the shopping situation or the lack of 'usual routine'. 

It's hard not to miss your usual life, isn't it?  The people you are used to seeing are gone. Those who greet you with warmth and help you smile through the day, gone. This is only week one.  We have many more to go.  I wonder what the feeling will be at the end of all this. 

A journey, a ride, white knuckles. Up and down with emotions.  Harley snores so loudly, my patience with him is tested and Jasmine runs to the rescue to take him from my bed, onto hers.  He's unaware. 
My medication changes things, changes me. The room spins, my eyes struggle to focus, my stomach in knots, unable to eat.  

Alone, I wonder if I will be me again.  At the end of this, things will have changed, for sure. I will be well again, my house, sorted, ready for the renovations to start. This is a good thing, a fabulous focus.  Rather like the writing project that I'm gathering with some other incredible writers. 

White knuckles. Gripping on.

Hoping for the thrill at the end of the ride.  What will be there? Travel? Work? Adventure? Happiness? A pot of gold at the end of the rainbow? 

Instagram stories and retweets show others having good days and bad too. 

No need to set the alarm clock. Pillow thoughts allow me to chose what tomorrow will bring. It's not all bad, for sure. Being home, comfy, fed; all nice. 

Some parts of life have gone missing. Will things ever be the same again? 

Winter thoughts

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