It’s the little things

Sometime life knocks you sideways, you get a phone call and your world caves in, shattered by a few words.

Other times, out of the blue you’ll hear from someone who’s never really far from your thoughts, but you don’t see very often. Their few words leave you walking on air. Whizzing about the house this morning, my phone beeped and I got a message from a girl I worked with in London. My opposite PA number in the office, we valiantly battled deadlines, paper-shuffled with the best of them and I was so upset to be leaving her – I couldn’t speak at my farewell, I just went straight to the ugly cry. (I have a feeling I am going to cry writing this as well, yup I am).

I last saw her when I was pregnant with Peanut, we spent a lovely day with her and her now husband in the Yarra Valley, I paid for her to get up close and personal with a koala, we had a splendid lunch, visited wineries and finished the day with an ice cream in St Kilda. It still ranks as one of my best days in Australia, not because of what we did, which was lovely, but also because of who we were with. The piece of my heart which holds that memory so dearly is activated often when I’m having a rough time, it was simply a glorious day.

How do you tell someone you love them?

  • Straight out – I love you.
  • Obliquely – I think about you often.

Every time I drive down into the Yarra Valley, I can still hear the intake of breath they both gave at the stunning scenery. Every time I walk past the koala enclosure at Healesville Sanctuary, (which is often) the joy on her face is repeated in my minds eye.

Every time I see Bank on TV I think about our lightening fast shopping trips at lunch time. I see pictures of their baby girl and think about the weekend I spent in their house, one of the last sacred few before I left the UK. We sat in their garden and talked and talked and talked. She paid for me to have a massage, helped me dye my hair, I had breakfast with her mum who gave me a hug I still wear with pride.

The memories of this lady are long and deep. I love that we dip in and out of each other’s lives on social media, that someone invented something that means I can see her, her family. So I don’t feel so sodding far away from someone I love dearly and am so blessed to have met.

I read something this week, (I’m paraphrasing): When people keep trying to be in your life, they’re the ones to keep. I collectively refer to my close friends as ‘My Coven’, not only because I cackle a lot when I’m with anyone I care about, but also because most definitions will say ‘A collection of individuals with shared interests’. I do collect people around me easily, but the ones I hang on to also persist with me because they see something in me that I don’t always see in myself.

B, my darling girl, you made me cry this morning and I’m a blubbering mess at my keyboard at lunchtime typing this now. But those words you sent me today? Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Tell someone you’ve not talked to in a while how much they mean to you, I’ve been wrapped in a pink bubble of joy all day.

What do you think..?

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