To me, right at the moment, to be happy, I need solitude. It’s been a long hard winter, and there are still no prospects of work. I’m ok at home, when I get the peace and quiet to do the things that I enjoy, without negative comments and questioning. I’m sleeping badly due to thyroid problems and the menopause, so a complete night’s sleep would make me happy too. I have Shira the Goldie to look after tomorrow, so walking her tomorrow will make my day.
Yet real happiness would be a day with the house to myself. I don’t want it forever, or at the cost of a huge argument. To bend God’s ear at any moment, seeking his quiet voice. To write diaries and blogs. To finally tackle painting again. To read a few pages of a book. To eat or not eat when I feel like it. And quiet. There is always the TV or radio on due to my other half’s tinitus. So I want quiet. Where I can hear the thrush and blackbird singing in the garden over the roar from the waterfall. To maybe go to bed at 7.30 and read without justifying myself. I think back to last summer which I christened the Cowbell summer, where during the heat wave I sat and read and wrote with all the windows open to the music of the swallows and the bells from the nearby field. Maybe if I can remember this is my mind the peace will return. Just one day.
Yet despite this, three things have put a smile on my face today, unexpected blessings. Taking a surprise 85th birthday pressie to one of our clients on the Meals on Wheels round, an unexpected hug born of real pleasure from one of the neighbours who I haven’t seen for a while, and the black squirrel running along the garden fence, spotted as I sit here at the screen. I can wait for my day.