These are my musings and observations on my daily life, loves and the laughter that are all a part of my experience of living now in the shires of England.

Thursday, 8 April 2010


Sometimes I really miss people.

You know that feeling you get that you can’t explain properly. That feeling that something is not quite right, or rather slightly amiss. What I think I mean is that it is not quite as you’d like it to be – right then, in that particular moment - to enable you to be entirely comfortable.

Well it’s sort of like that but a lot worse. It’s like an ache from a newly missing tooth. It’s like an emptiness that cannot be filled. It’s like a piece of the jigsaw puzzle that you can't find right there and then.

It is not a feeling of desperation.

It is more a feeling of gentle longing.

A feeling of comfort.

Like wanting to have a hot serving of that delicious steamed sponge pudding - spotted dick.

Like sitting huddled in a blanket in your childhood bedroom listening to the rain falling while you read Enid Blyton books under the covers.

Like lying on a garden bench, looking up at the clouds and imagining the shapes are all kinds of real things.

And, sometimes, this feeling of missing someone is something so new that you don’t quite have the right memory for it. But you know that you feel a strange void. You know that you want to refresh your memory of that person.

I feel that I want to be at peace in their company again. Nothing more. Just to share the same space at the same time.

Maybe also share a smile.

Maybe have an easy conversation.

Maybe just relax to background music.

Maybe notice the beauty of a flower on a spring day.

The feeling appears unexpectedly and … sometimes lingers.

Because something, someone, is missing …

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

We often dont realise that we are missing ourselves also.

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