Once upon a time there was a little girl who was sparkley and chatted constantly. She painted and sewed with her very fine finger movements. She got colds and coughs and got better.
And one day this little girl found herself very ill. Where was the pain? It was inside her. She was little. What was it? The doctors worried, we prayed, candles were lit and slowly she began to come back to us. Her smile lit our lives and we knew she was with us again.
And today a new pain. That of a grand-daughter very unwell and in the hands of the doctors in a hospital bed. Surrounded by love from so many, especially her dad and mum and older brother at home.
So many kind messages on my village facebook noticeboard. Kind phone calls and texts.
How do we live in hope? How can we trust? Where is faith, what is faith?
Am I alone? It sometimes feel like I am walking that lonely road.
Weary weary weary. A friend today said that I had spoken those words 3 times in our short telephone conversation.
Does grief make me weary? I s’pose it does.
And pain? I have that across my lower back. It comes and goes.
One day at a time then. No plans to far away places on trains and planes, hopping on tubes across cities to new adventures. One day at a time.
Well, it’s a start to my West Highland Way! Today I walked along the old tramway from Devoran to Penpol beside Restronguet Creek way in the distance of the photo.
Image taken from where my mother was born in 1909.
