Day 599: Hebe

Today I have been mostly crying a lot, for lots of different reasons, most of them fine. Here's one of the things that helped me with this. Megan Washington.

I'm moved by the visible whizz of her speech when she is on a roll. I'm moved by the rich caramel drawl of her singing voice and the water flow of it. I'm moved by her humour and the size of that there room. 

I'm grateful for sun and storms, a varied menu of weather served up on my balcony and in the big, wide sky above it. We watched a wall of rain walk in from Alexandra Palace. "You can't see it when you're in it." Even if you knew it was coming. Profound, we both agreed, as we talked about our relationship and how it isn't any more, and what it might (have) be(en). 





Alone, I watched the sun get warm in the sky and kiss it with bridesmaid's apricot tones. I watched grey-deep-blues become the backdrop for a single cloud, whites give way to greys and greys to whites. I've heard leaves rustle with wind and watched them bend with rain. I'm seeing the night come in, gently, at its pace.

I'm grateful for honesty and yoga, difficulty and warmth, fading flowers and fire-bright ones and a self-effacing hebe, standing on my balcony, promising to be beautiful for ever without the slightest hint of a brag.