When I dressed that day I forgot it was still January. The winter had been a long one and it was so much milder than it had been, that I chose leggings that ended just past my knees, and a pink cotton shirt-style dress. I wore a thick jacket over the top, but my legs remained exposed to the elements. Not that I cared. I felt alive as we drove along the winding roads, enjoying the comfort of the heated car seat, and the winter sun that hung in the clear sky.
Our adventure began in the small town where recently we've considered settling down. We quickly gave up on the high street, exiting down a narrow side-street leading to the main road, which we crossed, gaining access to fields and water; more my scene. Quietly, I absorbed my surroundings, dreaming, envisaging myself living there in the near future...
We drove the short distance to the coast; to a dramatic cliff that has been ravaged by the sea these last couple of decades. Indeed, the waves have so eaten away at the soft rock that now the little cottages stand right at the edge of the cliff top, and many more have already tumbled down onto the beach below, along with the road that ends quite suddenly. Their remains are strewn across the sand: bricks and mortar, pipes, even a concrete block that was evidently once a doorstep. The remaining houses have been long abandoned, their paintwork worn thin by the elements. I was filled with awe by the silence and stillness of the place, shivering as the violent waves wreaked their havoc below.
That night, as I dropped Spud off, we heard a great flock of geese in the sky above us, their calls and wing beats disrupting the quiet, as they began their noisy migration, invisible against the dark sky. They accompanied me all the way home, and it was only as I let myself into the house that their cries grew fainter, shortly ceasing as they continued on their way, leaving me with a poignant sensation of peace.