I found two things stored on my iPad today, one the above picture that I found on the Internet somewhere and secondly I found this snippet of words I wrote in October when I was feeling so terribly lost . . . . . . .
Not really living just waiting, waiting to breathe freely again, to skip along the beach finding silky shells, to park under the stars holding hands listening to the hushed sleepy waves, to smile so wide, beaming, eye to eye, the kind of smile that reaches your soul, dreaming so, treading water until then, not really breathing just living, not really living just waiting ...
Have been filled with making, and a little snow! Lots of knitting mostly, a little crochet, an over sized pompom for a handmade hat, and a birthday present for a friend, it feels so much better to hand make I hope I can carry in through out the year!
December so far, in ten pictures, still very few words for me, although I have many swirling in my head like swimmers struggling out of a stormy sea they clamour and push again my skull, but they can not break free.
My throat swollen and sore heals slowly from sips of whiskey and water from a small vintage glass, sucking on salty crisps, my first food for fourteen hours, stings my rose thorned mouth, swollen neck, bittersweet, salty like the sea.
A sad sad walk eyes barley able to keep swelling tears in found a new shop, so me, very Christmassy, the complete opposite to how I'm feeling.
My letter holder filling with pictures, mainly sea birds, a dollshouse deck chair, I always yearn for the beach, the sea when I'm sad.
A small small Christmas tree,
A real fire, and another string of fairy lights, so perfect they remind me of the row of perfectly round warm yellow bulbs strung above the cobbled streets of my beloved st Ives a few faded summers ago. Must go back.
Cushions and blankets waiting just for me. Must go back.