On love (again), and crabs

I think maybe love is always there, if you are open to receiving it. Or maybe you feel it, embracing you with cream-cardiganned arms, and then you open your eyes and see it dancing around you; with you. 

I have felt so much cardigan love, of late:

A hoarder-stranger friend of a friend who invited me into her home and rifled through bags of clothes to find me a dress to wear to a wedding, after I put a call for help on Facebook. Another friend who bought me a dress at a charity shop just in case it would do the job. Another friend who turned book club into the most entertaining Sophie S anti-catwalk experience. (My Phoenix snatched away my impossible self-consciousness and flew with it, into the night sky.) 

Friends have helped my son find a work experience placement - and what a placement! - after a dear friend who would have hosted him, passed away. Another stranger used a portrait I had taken of that man, who I had loved, on the cover of his funeral order of service, knowing nothing about me other than that I’d taken the photo and believed I’d been significant in his life. 

Yet another stranger, who has become a friend, took me bathing in a monks’ well ahead of the solstice. 

A friend of a dear friend gave me her oestrogen patch at a party on Saturday when I’d forgotten my gel and was away for a few days. Saved me from a slide into hormonal fog.

These beautiful things embrace me. 

Midsummer has come and is passing. Bringing an alchemy of moments I did not hope for or expect. 

I usually mourn the moment that marks the gradual shortening of the days. But this year I feel so alive. My fingertips are humming. I feel the strength of my toes on my yoga mat. Yellow and orange waft in the air around and about me.

One of my ‘50 things to do when I’m fifty’ is ‘A crab’. My list is ambiguous; includes ‘A room with a view’, and ‘Build a temple’. I know the meaning behind the words will be revealed.

This morning, I lay on my back, feet strong on the floor, hands behind my shoulders, and moved into that shelled shape. It felt so good. Delicious. Bursting with abundance.

I sank back onto the floor and smiled. Then I rose to my feet, and saluted the raindrops falling from the sky that were cleaning my windows and my car, and watering my roses.