Three things.

Love...

I've never understood why in life we need to grow through pain, it seems like such a cruel joke. One of these instances arose during my stay on the island; I could no longer hold it together. Regret began to paralyse me, tears streamed uncontrollably from my puffy eyes as I lay in the dark, desperately trying to catch my breath longing for this pain to stop. I always wondered how there were medications for everything in the world; how we could fly to the moon but there wasn’t a pill to console a broken heart.

My Aunt pushed my bedroom door open and looked at her broken niece, she wrapped her arms around me and told me that I had made the right choice, that from the moment I had walked in she knew I was done, she knew it was over. She told me that it was ok to still love and miss him and that I would for a long time as he had been a very special part of my life, she told me that it was ok to let him go, it was ok to do what I felt was right because everyone knows what they can and can’t live with and in the end only I could be the one to decide, and that’s exactly what I was doing. My Uncle joined us and lay on my other side while I shook between them, he gave me a sleeping pill to calm my nerves, he told me I was beautiful and that I was going to be more than ok, that this would always be a home for me, that they loved me no matter what. He reminded me that I had come there to clear my head, which had been unhappy and confused for so long; he reminded me that this would be a long and hard journey but that I would make it through stronger than I went in. They held me until the tears stopped, and looking back I couldn’t be more thankful for the unbelievable love they showed me that night. How unbelievably blessed I am to have them and to have been there with them, to love and be loved by them. All three of us grew that night, it was my pain that brought us together, but it was our love that changed something inside of us. In the end we ultimately grow through love, the pain is merely a catalyst for that love to find its way. 

    

Salty air and blistering sunshine.

I’ve spent the last 5 weeks with my Aunt and Uncle in Barbados, this land has cleansed me with salty air and blistering sunshine. Sand is constantly stuck to me and these precious days are spent eating flying fish sandwiches, taking surfing lessons, midnight skinny dipping, and getting lost between the pages of many beautiful books.
Every Sunday night we get dressed up and head down to “Charlie’s” a little beat up restaurant on the beach. It is run by no other than Charlie himself, who is a raging alcoholic. I can’t help but like him, he always plays Bob Marley and has a sadness about him that strangely draws me in. We have our roast beef dinner and Yorkshire pudding with friends from all over the island. As Reggae tones fill the sticky air. Stories of my parent’s childhood emerge and favourite life moments are relived. As soon as the sun sets behind the turquoise water all that can be heard is the howling of the frogs, and I know that somewhere inside me my heart is still beating.

 

Every Storm (runs out of rain) Gary Allan

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Freckles.

It looks as if someone has taken a toothbrush covered in light brown ink and splattered it across my face, freckles…a sign that my soul is filled with sunshine. Two or three weeks have passed, although I can’t be entirely sure as I’ve lost track of time, something that has indeed been a blessing. It’s definitely not easier, just clearer, and with the ins and outs of days which pass as a slow slumberous breath, I begin to have hope for the future that lies ahead; Uncurling and wild, untouched. A deep sadness still anchors my heart; I fight it off with a weak promise that we will always be friends. Something he won’t promise, something he can’t. I tell myself that I’ll fight for him, no longer as a husband but as a friend. I’ll be there for him always, always?

Yes. Finally.

B. R. E. A. T. H. E

Time ebbs and flows as if it has become liquid, oozing out of days, drowning the nights. My mind is plagued by answer-less questions. I shut my phone off; try to quieten the world I writhe within, the world I've left in shards.
Somewhere inside of me, that tiny flame burns. Quietly melting the wax which simultaneously feeds and suffocates it. Storm winds gust around it, the flame flickers and spits, smoke masking its light.
The smoke clears and a tear of wax runs down the side of the candle. The flame flickers.
It can breathe.