I stood, with my feet in the sand, and the wind tugging at my skirt.
Listening to the sounds of my children laughing and running, as I pushed the littlest one on the swing.
"Higher mum! Big daddy push!"
I gulped in the salty ocean air.
Inspiration seemed to flood my veins.
Words, and sentences seemed to flow and swirl, and they were within reach.
That salty ocean air must be clearing cobwebs, I thought.
What a stark contrast to where I stood half an hour before. Throwing pots in cupboards, slamming their doors, muttering. Suffocating.
Weeks of busyness.
Of visitors, and meetings, and groundhogdays.
Of washing and cleaning and cleaning and washing.
And spinning around in circles, and not really grabbing at anything, least of all the words to write in solace.
He saw, he knew. He grabbed my hand, and made me stop, and pulled me in, and arms wrapped tight said,
He piled kidlets in the car, and remembered my cardigan.
I followed, numb.
And here, in the ocean breeze.
Looking out at vast sea.
Being here, present, away.
The numbness left. Life began returning...
The Small Voice whispered,
"Hope deferred makes the heart sick"
I had deferred hope.
I couldn't see the blue in the dark clouds.
Couldn't see the break in the hectic schedule.
It droned on and on and on, and I forgot to hope.
To hope for a relaxing Saturday, hope for a night off cooking, hope for a living room without guests, hope for a quiet night for a cup of tea, hope for that dinner out with the girlfriends.
I forgot to hope, and it was making my heart sick.
"Hope deferred makes the heart sick, but when the desire is fulfilled, it is a tree of life"
And all I needed were these moments.
Under the sunset, with the people I cherished most.
This week I'll remember to hope.