Ducks can hold their breath under water...
On Saturday I indulged myself by escaping overnight to North Berwick. I needed space, to be by the sea, to stop thinking about malfunctioning boilers and continence pads. I vowed not to think about M. (see post 'If you want a laugh, read someone else's blog) for the 24 hours away. In fact I did think about her, and realised that, in fact, she was fine. It was me who was struggling. In a similar moment of honest reflection the day before, I'd become aware that my life wasn't on hold whilst I tried to make hers better. I was still doing things, I just couldn't do everything. That acknowledgement helped.
North Berwick was glorious. The light in this east coast seaside town takes some beating. As planned I went for a long sunset walk on the west beach, stopping for brief conversations with other lone strollers, pausing to take photos. After dinner, as predicted, I didn't get lost in some serious writing - I'm currently flat on the creative side but that will change. Instead I took some notes on a book about writing which is way too intellectual for me, lay down to read and immediately nodded off.
On Sunday I walked along the east beach. Despite the poor forecast, there was enough sunshine to bring out the blues, tourquoises and lavenders of the water and enough wind for respectable-sized waves. There were surfers, fishermen. It was during one of my frequent stops to watch the waves that I spotted a duck, surfacing, being covered by water, over and over. I recognised the metaphor. North Berwick was my surfacing for air. I returned to Edinburgh, invigorated by sea breezes, refreshed mentally and determined to remember how lucky I am...
Balancedly yours
Jane
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