Lone Passenger...

It was 7.20am, as I arrived to the bus stop.

My attention was drawn immediately to cans cast aside, sheets from a newspaper littering the verge and trashed cigarette packets, all signs of the previous night.

Beyond the refreshing birdsong, heralding a new day, the trees stretched their branches in the foreground of an emerging blue sky, like x-rays against an electric light.

The stillness of the abandoned pavements was interrupted only as a runner passed me, crossed the empty road and headed down a nearby hill.

The bitterness surfacing my face told me it was time the bus came, as I took a glimpse of it approaching.

I was a lone passenger, feeling illuminated as the bus departed, its' lighting so prominent against the sleepy town, that I was leaving behind.

My 75-minute journey to work allowed me ample time to note some thoughts as a lone passenger and immerse myself in some light reading, "The Day Job" by Mark Wallington.

How was it for you, first thing this morning?

Why is it, non-fragrant flowers can be so appealing?

I couldn't resist buying some anemones yesterday... Just eleven poker-straight stems, all a shade of deep purple and in tight bud, even though I know full well they do not provide the slightest hint of fragrance, which is normally the appealing factor that leads me to put my hand in my pocket, to buy flowers.

There is something attractive about how anemones open and bloom when in water. I am fascinated by how each stem curves or bends to create an overall cupped-hands shape, once in a vase. The light seems to determine how each flower opens or the immediacy of its' opening.

I couldn't help notice the houses opposite were gleaming as the early morning sunshine was projecting upon them having fought its' way through the aftermath of a frost. The morning was bright and my anemones enhanced that glow, besides being so welcoming, as I took a grip on today.

Anemones have been described as the symbol of love and daintiness - how come? I can believe that of Freesias, as they are so dainty with a most delicate and refreshing, room-absorbing fragrance.

I have made a decision to make time to select freshly cut flowers for my home - a piece of my puzzle that I have allowed to go missing!

“Let Love and Friendship Reign”...

Amongst the many Christmas cards I received there was one entirely covered in baubles, a kaleidoscope of vibrant colours. Even better was what was written in it, an invitation to return to the Cottage, where my late husband and I transformed our first dwelling into a home and started a family. The place where our children now tell me how they enjoyed their younger years growing up.

Predicted to be an emotionally hard thing to do, the warm and thoughtful invite, to pop in if we felt we could, is too tempting for me, born so curious, to turn down.

The old door-knocker, a Claddagh ring that we had both searched high and low for, has been put to one side for us to take away with us. A door accessory which carries so much more than pure sentiment and stories.

For those of you that do not know the significance of Claddagh...
Claddagh is a fishing Village in County Galway, Southern Ireland where this ring; two hands reaching around a heart was originally crafted (although not a place I've visited) The Heart symbolises Love, the Crown - Loyalty and the Hands –Friendship. “Let Love and Friendship Reign” where the Claddagh ring exists.

Bus 'n' book....

Its a "collars up, umbrellas open" kind of day; the gloomy weather is not relenting. I feel glad the wind and rain becomes a blurr behind the condensation on the bus windows, as I make myself comfortable in one of the passengers' seats.

I opened my book which immediately transported me from those with either ear-plugs in, passengers resorting to nail picking or like the lady sat just in front of me, who used her hand as a comb and repeatedly attempted to put her hair straight. I resisted a deep urge to ask her to stop and to tell her that nothing she'd do to her hair could improve it, other than a thorough wash of course!

The story-line of my book is gripping and I simply have to read on to see where this journey will take me. Between the pages I find a bright day packed with action. I have survived another night, I am breathing and as always, strive to get the most from another day.

Reading for Widows

Within an instant, I became a widow in my early 50's...
- a pill that is proving quite impossible to swallow, even now after 2+ years and in the company of our rewarding teenage family.

Working many hours to repay a mortgage, my lone journeys by bus seem shorter since approaching each one as "my time" and indulged in a good read as opposed to dwelling on the inconveniences of public transport.

What do widows read? Perhaps you can make some suggestions... ?

I used to read purely to source information, however now I am drawn to light novels that include: widows, humour, hope and companionship.

I started by reading the hilarious; "Dear Fatty", Dawn French's memoirs, Julie Walters autobiography and "Toast" by Nigel Slater. I then got hooked when I discovered Author, Debbie Macomber - her books: Christmas in Seattle, Twenty Wishes, Thursdays at Eight and Old Boyfriends. Alongside I have read: Good Grief by Lolly Winston, Storytelling by Annette Simmons and Emotional Rollercoaster by Claudia Hammond.

Acceptance and open mindedness have definitely proved good routes to explore and develop. How about you?