A normal day will begin like this. If my alarm is not set for an appointment, I must have a lie in. I am allergic to mornings and I managed to find a sweatshirt that mirrors my inclinations.
After a quick breakfast, I will twiddle my thumbs and say, what are our plans for the day?
Go out.
But where?
Anywhere that the car will take us. For the moment. Until it is safe enough to fly.
So that's the modus operandi. Two people, very much in love with no pressing cares, on the road to no where.
Just looking out of the car window, I see the beautiful picture of now. Cows grazing in the fields. Leaves turning orange and brown and red.
And if I wind down the window I can taste the crisp fresh air even. Now I know why dogs love to stick their heads out of the window.
I like the now.
But to get to the now, we have had our fair share of walls - some broken through, some yet to be broken.
Walls of anxiety and pain - physical or emotional - delibitating in one way or another and we wish the pain would instantaneously go away. But most times it takes a while, and sometimes a very long time. And we are overwhelmed.
The days are getting colder. My vegetables are not growing as robustly as before when there was plenty of sunlight. The upside however is I have less slugs and snails to contend with.
I can choose to lament over the shorter days ahead or I can choose to be thankful that there won't be a famine in the home because the harvest has been great.
So, there's nothing better than what we have now. Because tomorrow has cares of its own.
