The beauty of being an immigrant of the 70’s is the opportunity to have two places, thousands of miles apart, that feel like home.
As much as I love buildings, it’s not the physical structures that make it feel familiar. It’s the energy of the place. Glimpses of past memories spent there, shared with the familiar look on aging faces.

I went to a funeral of one of the foundation people from my childhood. A mother, a smile, a patch of the quilted memories that add to my sum total of experiences. As I sat in the back of the all too familiar church, a place where my own vows were taken, I looked at all the familiar heads and sighed with belonging. My tribe, but no blood connections. Strings woven through each of our hearts. This recognition of history without knowing specific detail. Some threads connected looser than others but the common ground literally giving us a bonded meaning.

Grief visited, through hearing the tender words of bereaved friends and family, acknowledging our own personal visits with the feeling, both past and present. A laugh on hearing about dear Patsy’s character. A glimpse into her nuclear family while enabling a brush with my own wider ‘femily’. It helped that Patsy had lived well, that she made the world a happier place with her wide smile. There was cheer in the air, in spite of the tears.

Driving through the once walked streets, flashes of houses triggering long forgotten names, I wondered what it would be like still living here, having never moved away. A ‘dad song’ popped into my mind.. and I sang the lyrics as tears rolled down my cheeks. Not tears of sadness but of gratitude and peace of my own life, well lived.

” It’s good to touch the green, green grass of home
Yes, they’ll all come to meet me, arms reaching, smiling sweetly
It’s good to touch the green, green grass of home..”

Rest in Peace dear Patsy

Although I no longer put all my hope into the magic of one day or one resolution because I now find magic in any ordinary moment, I still love observing the global cheer of being hopeful. I love watching people build themselves up with positivity and expectations and the excitement that goes with that is infectious. But I am no longer compelled to join in. A lesson in setting boundaries which I have enjoyed doing.

The day is just a Tuesday, yet the importance of the collective days get rounded up and judged accordingly. Us humans have a need to assign, to determine and to judge. It helps us understand the craziness of the world. I used to have a sense of panic of not setting proper goals, of not finishing last years, of not being ready to finish dates with a different year. But maybe it’s age, maybe it’s just temporary, I no longer panic. The anxiety has shifted. The compulsion altered. The ‘what if I don’t get it done…’ has changed to ‘I am never going to be done’ and that has given my internal mechanisms a real break.

In saying all that…. 2018 was the year of relationships for me. Most of them completely shifted, because I became easier on myself. I took leaps and the nets did magically appear. I lept into the abyss of the unknown, possibly the biggest leap I have ever taken and I am amazed that the chronic fear has all but disappeared. Realism hasn’t left me though, but I am aware that I am responsible for my life and I have tremendous support yet, even if that were to disappear  ( which was the scariest of fearts- Scots words) I will be ok. I will find my way.

So I wish for myself the contentment of the moment, the fun in dreaming big, the excitement of exploring and the inner peace in the midst of chaos.

Ok, I wish that for you too, but that is up to you to find your way.

Cheers, to all who have loved me, been loved by me and to all future loves…