Music and writing
Music and writing, my greatest healers, although, never at the same time, I cannot write and listen to anything other than (as now) the birds chirping a merry tune in my South London garden.
I danced last week, we sang, we lost our voices, I danced to the music that was played in my childhood, because it wasn't all horrendous.
Music was a joy, always has been and in this same week I have watched my son play on some of the biggest Jazz stages of his career.
Music, his safe space too, music is my baby son's safe space too, I remember when we lost him for those moments, Insisting if nothing else, that he was given headphones, let him have music. It was the least he could have.
Writing is my great healer also, getting to know the me that flows on to the page is a marvel, I like her. alot more than the image of her that floats by me when I walk past a shiny window down the street.
I wish to be one of those women that marvels at herself, has the confidence to do a full face of make-up on the train, knowing that everyone around is secretly looking but really not caring enough to care what they think.
Neither music nor writing never judged me, I am possibly my truest mself when immersed in either.
Dancing in the crowd with my oldest friend last week, remembering many versions of us, the deep knowing that those precious little moments are all that really exist and then... writing about it!