Yesterday marked the beginning of Spring here, with a Sydney day that started out buried in a thick fog, and then opened up to be beautifully sunny.
Yesterday, I laughed and sang and chat-chat-chatted with my lovely nieces on our way to school.
Yesterday, I saw a guy texting as he drove: unbelievably using both hands to text, as he held his iPhone above the steering wheel.
Yesterday, I ate a frittata that I made, topped with fresh herbs from my (teeny tiny) veggie garden.
Yesterday, we went to our lovely friend Claire’s Dad’s funeral. On a sunny day, the first of Spring.
There were laughs and tears and music and lots of people with grey hair. And little baby Emily was there, smiling away quietly. I haven’t actually been to many funerals. And I couldn’t look at Claire and her family as we walked past, because I could feel the tears trying to leap out from the well they’d formed in my eye sockets. But it felt good to give her a big hug afterwards. Because sometimes nothing says what you want to say quite like a big hug.
Yesterday, there was some sadness, some silliness, some sameness, some smiles, and some sunshine. And it was only day one of Spring, the best season of them all (if you ask me). Here’s to happy times and sad times and old friends and new beginnings and hugs. Don’t forget the hugs.
And here’s to The Ship Song, which was in my head today. The Opera House project version from a few years ago is here in case you like it too.