Alphabet Clouds

I have days - like today - when I think too much. When it feels like I'm walking around with my insides on the outside and my endless thoughts twist and tumble over themselves in alphabet clouds set in a sky the colour of old bones. Days like today are hard.

Normally, I try and write. It doesn't always work, because alphabet clouds are intangible. I can't pin down the feelings, much less the words. They slide between my fingers, and hide between the keyboard keys, and I just can't string them together into a coherent thought. Everything seems too much - too loud, too bright, too hard.

So today I left work early. I picked Immy up from school, and we came home to chase rainbows instead. It went down something like this.

Freshly baked choc chip cookies. That smell that saturates the air with sugar. 

Sunset soccer. 

My wildling. And her imagination.

Finding this. An orchid plant which has never, ever flowered. And today it looks like this. Feels like a kiss from the wind. 

Tea with Granny and Grampy. Sharing cookies and cappuccinos. And having a living room dance party. Our playlist? Van Morrison. The Weather Girls. Tom Jones. You get the picture. 

Bubble baths, shower caps. And facecloth sandwiches of course.

Days like today remind me how little it takes to transcend the ordinary. An afternoon of small, happy moments that can change the axis of the world for me.

Tomorrow when I wake up, my alphabet clouds would have rearranged themselves neatly throughout the night into words, sentences, paragraphs. Structure and sense and reason.

Today we'll just weather the storm.

Happy Monday.