Today I woke up to the sound of the sea roaring and agitating outside my window, a long long way from the hills that are usually home…. so I succeeded in moving on a little at least in one sense!
Yesterday was a good day. Having found a little of my confidence in the train station, I felt just a little stronger than before, a little more capable. I ate icecream, squelched warm wet sand between my toes, basked like a cat with the sunshine on my face and felt something I have not felt in a while – simple happiness. I tried a little ‘modern art’… loosing myself 7 foot deep in a room full of inflated balloons had me chuckling like a kid, my hair like a crazy electrified octopus on my head!
Sadly few of my moods seem to hold fast for long… I thought about calling dad to tell him how the blue of a Cornish coast had wowed me – he spent years trying to lure me home from overseas with promises of the pretty corners of the UK I could discover – and my happy bubble burst in a second. Memory can be an arse like that.
But, the moment was there and I was glad to know my ‘happy muscles’ are still in place, even if they are a little under stretched right now.
Over the last year or so I think I have come to view old age as something best avoided, a juggernaut that tugs only sickness, sadness and weakness in its wake.. so it did me good to watch plump pensioners promenading along the sand, holding hands and tutting disapprovingly at the seagulls. I wish my dad had had chance to get a little older and a little fatter, had had a little longer to hold someone’s hand.
Everything is so bitter sweet and sweet bitter.