Rag dolls and empty bottles

Grief is a frightening character.

A thief who can steal you away and get away with it....

Why?

Because grief cannot be denied. We must leave that small window ajar, the spare key under the mat, best wear your collar loose for when you're grabbed by the scruff of the neck...

Sometimes he finds you 'in' when you wish he hadn't.

Like when you're driving on the motorway and the windscreen wipers don't work somehow. He strikes and turns the sensible into a non-sensible rag doll.

Spring last year I found myself with a choice - head North for home from the Midlands or head back in time. The time traveller with a penchant for the past won out.

I headed West past Telford then Shrewsbury into and across mid-Wales. The weather was strange. There was lightening, but no thunder as I crossed the border and headed into Wales.

Rain then sunshine. Through Welshpool, stopping in Aberdovey through Tywyn, I worked my way around the coast then inland towards Cadre Idris and Llanegryn.

Another Home.

It's no wonder time has mythic status. In the village I imagined, the house standing there, the worn step. The many passing feet, tiny hands growing day by day.

There was the former hotel, the school and old chapel. I could hear voices from yesteryear. And remembered my grandfather's steel stomach from working in the slate quarry. True grit. True work.

Heading NE I came to Bird's Rock.

I made my way to the top.

Walking and running alone.












The valley there stretched out before me was like so many in Wales, green, beautiful and timeless.



I could trace out my journey, along the Dysynni valley and see the bay in the far distance, sunlit and misty.

I stood reflected, remembered and rejoiced.

Savouring some deep breathes and that space, I noticed the strong breeze cutting across the Rock and my face. If my mouth was open I found I had become an open yet empty bottle. A special bottle - one of those human ones - full of raw emotion thinking about a lost other.

I've no idea where it came from but I'm still there

My lips moved but I did not speak.

The wind spoke my words for me.

"It's ok son I'm right here and always will be...."