A tiny bit hopeful: Day 9

Listening to the raindrops daintily tapping on the windowpane. I was happy to see the shift from dry to wet. The weather that makes me want to run indoors had finally appeared. Though it didn’t last for long, grey clouds soon made way for the bluest sky, accompanied by heavy winds. For once I was happy to see the bewildering British weather at its best.

As the coronavirus pandemic continues to span across the world. Lessons can be learned, alongside regrets of not having done things differently and promises to change. I tell myself if I get through this plight, I will no longer wait on things to come my way; wait to travel, wait for a higher position or wait for someone. I have enough to get me to places I wish to be, if not close.

Listing the things I’m grateful for, is all that matters. My attention is focused on the areas of life that bring me bliss and happiness. My entries are not made of material, instead, they’re shaped by emotions, experiences, memories etc. Small joys I will carry through with me. It’s this list of gratitude that will bring me to my destination. I’ve given myself a year to get there. With everything that’s going on, I’m hoping that is achievable. Tomorrow stands unforeseeably in front of me. I will take each day as it comes, though I’m grateful for the present.

With all the time I now have in my hands I reminisce about all the beautiful things my life has accumulated. What it’s like to be where I am. That first time drinking a full mug of hot chocolate, the sachet was a sample in a teen magazine. Feeling the warmth of summer’s heat when I’d walk out of an over-air-conditioned room. Long-awaited lunches with friends, who bridge the distant gaps. The first time I read The Di Vinci Code and how it led me through a thrilling journey. The songs I dance to when no one’s watching. The first time I walked into Konditor and Cook, after being handed a sample outside the bakery, not knowing I would fall for their flavoursome brownies. Every time I landed in America, after a 10 hours flight. I think back to the hills I’d hike every morning in California, standing close to the top only to take in the beautiful view. The moment I would step into the warm water at my local pool. The first time I deadlifted more than my body weight, though I’m petite, I said I couldn’t lift it but I proved myself wrong. I remember the dogs I’d see at work always ready to be petted and happy to play. Listening to my cat when she falls into a deep sleep. The hugs that made delicate sense.

Taking my thoughts forward to a hopeful new beginning.