Today was one of those days. You know, nothing major, just nothing great either.
It is the end of the Easter holidays and we have had fun and been busy, but today (and yesterday if I’m honest) I have felt tired, and bored.
I have one child who is coming down with a fever, one who is a little over tired and one who hasn’t stopped talking to (at) me for the last 36 hours, mainly about lego dimensions, of which I have no interest.
My husband is well, but busy with work and distracted. And our house has been upside-down as we sort through the black hole of disorganised paperwork that was our study.
I end the day with my frustrations barely concealed. Simmering under a thin mask, that I have little interest in wearing.
I’m feeling a bit hard done by, and guilty because I know I don’t really have a good reason to feel this way.
After tea, Matt suggests I go for a lie down, have a nap (his preferred way of feeling refreshed).
But I don’t, I go for a walk.
When I am fed up, or low, or anxious, or just plain old in a bad mood, it is good to be outside.
I put my headphones in, pull on my boots and grab my camera (I have a new lens I want to experiment with).
I feel the relief of being out of the house and on my own.
I zone in and out of the podcast I am listening to, allowing the words to send me off down new interesting pathways.
I become aware of my feet, hot in my shoes as I pound the pavements, the smell of the freshly cut grass of the local rugby pitch, the sensation of the light rain on my face, the sound of the train hurtling through the station.
And as I walk I feel me returning to myself. My thoughts filtering and sorting, laid out before me. The fog of the day and the ceaseless demands ebbing away.
The walk is a mixture of beauty: the river and the trees with their furry buds waiting to open, the mundane: housing estates and pavements, and the unrefined: bad graffiti, warning signs and litter.
But tonight, all of it is good. All of it is welcoming.
I pass Fathers and daughters walking dogs, a man, hood pulled up, head down, his mind full of a problem his walk is helping him solve, neighbours tidying their gardens, and teenagers on bikes.
Tonight it feels like we are all in this together. We are sharing this experience, these moments. We nod, or smile, or ignore each other, and tonight, it doesn’t matter.
I know we are on the same side.
The world is waiting to listen, to refresh and to comfort.
I only had to give it the opportunity.