I’m sitting outside to write this, two thirds through a slightly uncomfortably busy day. I’m taking five, which will hopefully become fifteen, twenty if I possibly can. I’m listening to birds, having a snack, the sun hits me in the face, it’s a little windy which is refreshing. The sheet off my bed is flapping hard next to me. It snaps occasionally and I love it - washing dried on the line is, for me, one of life’s great luxuries. Designer flimflam doesn’t feel half as good as that first moment skin hits line dried sheets on a freshly changed bed. 

I love days like this. It doesn’t have to be hot, just bright and dry, warm enough not to need a coat. Shirtsleeves weather is ideal but jumper weather will be flirted with just as much.  

Rewind the tape just a bit. Rewind a season. I’d be the girl who looks out the window. Struggles to poke her nose beyond the window ledge. “Go for a short walk, even ten minutes” ‘they’ say - will we ever know who ‘they’ are, and I can’t decide if ‘they’re’ friend or foe.  Now, every chance I get, I put a cushion onto the bench and sit, soaking it in. I mourn these moments when the season switches and it grows too damp.

The other me is resting. It’s not her turn. It’s my turn, for today.  

Love from

The room above the garage

A Moodscope member