Waiting in Wales
We were waiting here. I don’t think it’s one of
those endless photos that we had to pose impatiently for while dad faffed about with the
camera. He must have just taken the
picture ending up with that glorious panoramic landscape fading into the mist upstream and me taking
a cheeky look over my shoulder at the last minute.
Improvised and
unplanned as it was, it turns out to be one of the best of us in dad’s collection.
Good grief we
even completely tone in with the colour palette of the surrounding vista.
Everything about this is effortless and carefree. See how the light catches the
curve of your eyelashes and my side curl.
The waiting of recent years has carried
rather more weight. It has brought the rocks closer to us and required us to
scramble over them rather than sit by them. The stream has at times been less
than gentle, intermittently a deluge, requiring us to stand strong in it whilst it overflows
into the tops of wellington boots.
Then, we were waiting with one another and dad’s
camera in that gentle place, wholly appropriate considering we have both grown up to be people who are comfortable with our own thoughts and company.
Since then our lives have taken quite different paths. And sometimes we wait for different things, other times the same, inexorably linked by the landscape of life's hand.
But we are still waiting together too and I like that.
Since then our lives have taken quite different paths. And sometimes we wait for different things, other times the same, inexorably linked by the landscape of life's hand.
But we are still waiting together too and I like that.
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