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Thursday, 13 June 2019

THE JOURNEY OF LIFE BY FIONA CUMMINGS


I have been on a long journey but I’m back for now. it’s the 13th day of June in the year of 2019. The weather is so wet. In one hour, the other day, we had a month of rain. it’s so cold too. This is meant to be our summer though our skies are telling us other stories. It’s more like a November night as it’s dark all day. You may think that is a strange thing for me to say considering I’m blind, how do I know it’s dark? I can just feel the damp in my bones though now days my bones have a lot of insulation!

 

Since I have been away, I have been writing. Thank goodness for being able to write or I just may have totally gone crazy rather than going slightly mad. So, over the next few blogs, you may notice a slight difference in the normal style in which I write in.

 

My Husband has been so busy this past week and next week there will be no change in that. He is certainly due a break from work but it’s too busy right now.

 

This weekend is Father’s Day in the UK. A time I will be reflecting on time with my Darling Dad wishing as I do every day let alone every Father’s Day, how much I miss him, love him and need him.  I hope all of you with good Dads you love and appreciate what you have as we do lose them and that time can never prepare you for what is ahead.

 

I read something today. Love your Mother, and that can be the same for your Father, as the older we get, the more we appreciate them. I believe that to be true and sometimes it’s just too late!

 

Amongst the madness, I went outside this morning at seven minutes past seven. Not for any particular reason, other than to let my dog out. But whilst I was there in the morning trickling of heavens tears, I took in the air, through an imaginary filter, trying to block out the horrid pollution from the busy road over our wall.

 

It was lovely, fresh with all the rain. though not pure as too many vehicles pass by. The smells of early morning as it wakes up fresh for the start of a day in which we never know the outcome. No matter of our plans. It was as if the shrubs in our garden were grateful to be able to see another day. The end of spring flora and the start of the summer roses. The damp soils. The pine trees. The wet wood.

 

In the near distance if that even makes sense, actually it doesn’t. how can you get a near distance? I won’t as I never do, delete my bad English, but try to explain what I meant. The birds were singing very close to me but they sounded so far away as busy transport tried it’s best, to block out all nice sounds, as it hurried by making their way to work, shops wherever they were going, possibly home for a sleep after working all night? I tried to bloc out the sounds I didn’t want to hear and focussed in on the song from the birds.

 

Sometimes I feel like birds are speaking to me. They have such a calming influence. Sometimes I wonder if people take them for granted? May be if you can see, you don’t listen to their voices? Next time, try to listen, close your eyes. I tell you; they are there to give absolute pleasure to our ears as if to speak to our minds and souls.

 

As I stood there, feet in a puddle, never before has our back garden been so full of water, I enjoyed the morning so much.

 

I think I am out tomorrow with friends. There are six of us going to a castle. Rather than posh shoes, I fear we will be needing our wellington boots. As we trod through the grounds to get there. And you never know, we may bump into the Queen!

 

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