Breathe (10)

I finished it in a day. A surge of expression. They are rare. But instead of resting a little, just for a wee while, on my laurels I brought the next thing to fret about into my head. I can’t turn it off. It’s a constant turning machine. I need to do it, if only for a moment. Breathe. To just concentrate on the simplicity of breathing in and out. And yet things are looking up. Why not allow that to feel good?

A cold morning that has its own beauty. I love the glitter of frost on the road and pavements and the steamy heat of my breath as it hits the frozen air. Shopping done. Food put away. Admin almost done. This and then work. Two cups of tea consumed and I’m beginning to thaw from the inside out. People slowly respond and it feels better. There is a turning that is being to match that of the one going on inside of me.

Her brother died. I am sorry for her. They suffered much together. What a childhood, but then it was the war but to lose your father in that way. I cannot imagine the grief and the fear and the displacement. She is such a gentle soul and strives so hard to do good. She has much of him (I imagine, as I never met him) in her. Cousins, though from a different generation, she means much to me, though the distance geographically that separates us is huge. May he rest in peace. I never met him either but feel him, through her. God bless sweethearts.

By Ellen Bell

Artist and writer currently living in Aberystwyth.