On grief

Two weeks ago, I was in Sydney visiting an old friend. We went to Coasters Retreat and drank champagne, ate a ridiculous amount of delicious food, swam in the ocean, basked in the sun, and generally made the most of every moment. It had been a long time since I’d felt so present in the ‘now’ that I didn’t start my five-and-a-half-hour journey home until 6pm on the Sunday night.

On my 2020

I took a risk, a leap, a jump off the cliff of safety. 2020 was going to be my year, as though asserting ownership and dominance assured me control over the next 365 days. I’ve been utterly lost, right at home. Blind-sighted and grieving. Once restless and anxious, now languid and idle. In a year where I had all the time in the world, the world felt awfully small, and