It’s the witching hour, the gloaming. Patterns and shadows play across an amber horizon and as usual I am drawn towards the sky. Paddy who likes to predict tomorrows weather, is also skywatching and suddenly shouts “Come here and see this”
We both run up to the roof for the best view. Even after all these years, the sun setting in the west is impossible for either of us to ignore. Now it is all autumn gold and deep navy blue.
We are reluctant to let the day go. We carry on pottering until there is nothing else left to fix or tend. Himself eeking out the evening with forays into the garden, or myself following the light to capture the last silhouettes. Of all the hours in the day, of all the magic moments, the last dying rays of the sun hold us inthrall yet again. Neither of us wants to close the curtains on it.
I used to fear the dark and lonely silence of the night, that fading light, the end of things. The unfamiliar noises of twitching bushes of gorse on the hill or the scuttling of bats leaving their daytime home in the rafters.
I’ve learned that it’s ok. Ok to hold on, and Ok to let go. This is how it happens.
First let the darkness envelop you like a cosy blanket. Then cheer on the black swooping bats as they disappear off into the night sky. Finally set the alarm for an early walk to snap the sparkly dewy cobwebs at the break of day.
I don’t believe it! Is this me letting go of the past to make way for the new? Is this me making plans for tomorrow?