I made myself an afternoon tea today, thinking of how many scones I’ve enjoyed with my Nan. It was upsetting, at first. I’ll never have the opportunity again and just spending time with her was a rare kind of joy. So it hurt, to think about that.
But then, with all those memories of sunshine and good times, of laughter and silliness, of being a ‘bloody herbert’, of feeling this moment was all life needed to be, there was joy again.
I’m lucky to have had those good times and with an open heart there will be more. They’ll be different, but there will be more good times.
With tea. And scones.