Blue skies & scars

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Good morning everyone! Today I woke early as the sun crept round the blind, sneaking in to the room to call me from dreams that blend reality with possibility and a generous hint of the ridiculously absurd. I landed on the pillow with a crumpled smile, and found my thoughts leaping into the day ahead, listing the tasks I hope to achieve and the time I anticipate they will take, searching for the opportunity for a walk on the heath, before sighing and getting up for coffee.

It’s a beautiful morning in London; the spring sunshine spills through the kitchen window, warming the herbs that reside on the sill, releasing a fresh fragrance to be inhaled deeply with eyes closed in appreciation. The light on my shoulders is deliciously warm, and encourages me to sit on the countertop and steal the rays from the bowl of lemons and assorted cooking utensils, as they curl round my legs and creep up my décolleté. I sipped my latte and smiled at the sky; an endless blue stretching into the distance above the rooftops, with only a single vapour trail, like a small scar to mar its perfection.

I glanced at the scar on my knee, a fairly neat white line that holds a story, and wonder about the scars on my heart, everybody’s heart, how would they look if we could see them? I suspect I would pick at the edges of the latest wounds, impatient for healing but unable to ignore the regret and disappointment wrapped up in their memory. I’m resisting the temptation, most of the time, but admit that occasional moments find my mind in the ‘if-only’ territory. I wonder how long will it take that particular hurt to fade into a smooth white line, and become ‘just another story’, something that happened to the girl I used to be?

And I smile at the blue sky, because however long it takes, I already know that that particular scar will always be the start of the next adventure, the one that whispered ‘follow your dreams, you’re the author of your story’. So the crazy idea that morphed into possible plans has now become more probable than mere potential, and I have a blessed opportunity. I also have a contract to sign, and a ticket to buy, another white scar to trail across the sky. Meanwhile that list still persists, and the clock is ticking, but it’s OK, because I’ll make time for a walk on the heath anyway, after all, chances become more precious when they’re numbered don’t they?!.

Have a gorgeous day everyone, and remember your scars are souvenirs of your journey, but you’re still the author of your story. Blessings & love, Hxx

{Photo sadly uncredited, via fatallyflawedpalate.tumblr, words: Hayley Darby © 2013}

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