home is where the heart is

Did you know it has been exactly four months and seven days since I last plucked up the courage to click on that terrifying little pencil button which represents a 'new blog post' and began to type? That means it has been exactly four months and six days since my grandfather passed away. It also means it has been four months and eight days since I gave up with my blog and the fantasies of writing and ventured out into the nonsensical world which is Sixth Form. Strangely enough, Sixth Form grasped me by my collar and threw me head first into weeks of friends and revision and responsibility, and I adored it. I still adore it. Yet, I feel as if by abandoning this blog I am losing touch with an old friend; our texts, letters and emails are becoming so irregular that I wonder why I bother any more. I'm actually wondering why i'm bothering right now, really, but I guess I just miss being able to let my inner most thoughts flow so freely. I feel as though I am being heard by all of the wonderful people that surround me these days, but what they hear are the sugar coated sentences, packaged and placed in my voice box ready to create typical comments to insert very cautiously into typical conversations. I need to just let go. That's what i'm doing right now: letting go.

I was reading back over my old blog posts and realised that most of them focused on the beauty of the world outside the window pane. The sky and the sea and the trees in Autumn and the cars on long journeys. Yet, i'm a girl who spends a lot of her life indoors. I've begun to wonder why recently but I think, especially at Winter time, Home is where I want to be. Home, for me, is waking up, curling your toes into the blanket at the end of your bed, rolling over and going back to sleep. Home is being surrounded by people who love you no matter what, and who care for your dreams as much as their own. Home is movie marathons and mugs of tea which fit perfectly in your hand because the mug is yours and wearing your worn out pajamas all day long. Home is that place where you know you just belong.

Home is different for everyone. For some it is not within their house, but at a place elsewhere they feel like they belong. Home could be a hut on a distant beach where nobody can hear you singing in time to the waves. Home could be holding the hand of someone you love and feeling so comfortable and safe that your heart flutters with every step you both take together.

Today I am having a day where I feel completely at Home. I'm wrapped in a blanket on the sofa with a hot drink, watching movies and, most embarrassingly, cuddling my Bagpuss teddy. I am writing, I am talking, I am drifting in and out of daydreams and I am content with my surroundings. Sometimes, I wonder what it must be like to not have somewhere to call Home. To never feel comfortable or safe or protected by the dangers of the world around you. To feel so without a place to call your own or without people you care for and who care for you. Sometimes, I see a homeless person, their shoulders drooped in fear of attracting too much negative attention, their eyes so drained of hope or joy, and wonder if they have a place to call Home. Or if they ever had one. Or even know what it is like to feel at Home. Next time you're walking the streets, your head high with the hopes of reaching Home, with the knowledge you are about to receive a warm meal and a caring embrace, take a second to look down. Take a second to acknowledge those without a Home, to perhaps drop a few coins into a cup which will perhaps one day contribute to a Home. Offer a cheerful smile or a kind word or two. Share your Home with the world.

Apologies for such a long hiatus since my last post and such a poorly written return but I am very glad to be back. 

Until next time.

(Today's post was inspired by this playlist http://8tracks.com/haffalump/home)

the sea is boiling water and the sand is sugar

Yesterday we lost my granddad, my mum's father, to cancer. This blog post isn't going to be about him, or about loss or mourning. I just wanted to let my beautiful readers know, as I have mentioned the situation previously and I didn't want to leave it as a mystery. I need to stop thinking about the cashew nuts he used to love so much, and how much he adored condensed milk, how he used to say 'you smell lovely', which sounds a lot prettier in his language. How he used to call me his 'number one' as I was the first grandchild born, or how he smelt, or how he used to sit in a corner and engross himself in crosswords. I need to stop, but I can't. Okay, maybe I lied, I've given you a slice of my grief and mourning and I apologise. I won't do it again.

Today I needed a prompt for my blog because once an emotion has consumed you completely, sometimes it becomes your only inspiration and I don't want to sit here complaining about how upset I am. I'd rather not upset you all too. My prompt for today is a picture, which I shall write a small story about. I hope you enjoy it, dear reader. I am coming up to 3000 hits on this blog and I cannot believe those of you who have stuck with me through it all so far. Although you may believe I haven't shared a lot in the twenty or so posts I have written, I have shared more with you than any other person alive today, and I hope you understand how much thought I put into each post. So here goes, another picture prompt. 

If you are new to my blog and enjoy the picture prompt for today, there was a picture prompt used in an older blog post here.

~~~x~~~

The higher up I am, the happier I am. Down on the ground I am surrounded by giants; people are taller than me and more important, buildings tower over me and the sea seems to be a vast emptiness I am afraid of. Everything seems to press me down further into dirt and grit, pushing and pushing until I am completely submerged in the earth and not even the top of my head can be seen. I suffocate, down on the ground. I am nobody, just another speck of dust floating in the sunlight, blown away with the slightest, silent sigh.

When i'm sat up high on the rocky hills which not many are brave enough to trek up, the world is suddenly mine. I can grasp at building and boats, or delete them from existence by covering them with my hand. People are like ants, the sea can be poured mug of tea; the sky is the only thing which goes on forever however it is so clear and calming that I almost want to jump up and join the few lonely birds, flying so high the ground no longer exists.

You should see it at night. The buildings become stars, glittering and flickering as young children turn on their bedside lights and begin to read fairy tales. The stars in the sky become jealous, and they battle it out for hours until the buildings give up and go dark again. But, whilst they are ablaze, the sea sparkles and you can just about make out the waves, still drifting towards the shore, tickling it gently, then drifting back to repeat the process.

The best bit is they can't see me. Nobody can. Not my family, nor my friends, nor the buildings or the sea or anything but the birds which promise to fly with me someday. The ground may consume me on occasion, but I will always make it out and I will one day touch that crystal clear sky above my head. For now, I shall pour myself a cup of tea, using the sea as my water, and pick up the people by their collars and use them as spoons to stir my drink. The sand can be the sugar which dissolves so quickly it was almost as if it was never there. And after a few thousand mugs of tea, the ground below will be empty. I will have consumed it all and all that will be left for me is the sky.

~~~x~~~

That was quite possibly the weirdest thing I have ever written, but I hope in some odd way you have enjoyed it and can perhaps see the message behind my story. Though a simple one, it fits in with my life right now. No matter how hard life gets, or how much you feel swallowed up my the ground below, there will always be the sky to look up to and aim for and there will always be a way out.

Ayesha x

The Autumn Tree

I would start this blog post with a meandering, endless list of reasons why I haven't been here but 'lack of inspiration', 'on holiday', and 'just started sixth form' would be the ones reoccurring the most. Apologies to my readers for not updating for so long. Whilst I was in Cornwall, I was over inspired. Each tickle of the sea breeze on my cheeks and handful of ripe, oozingly juicy strawberries I stuffed into my mouth was inspiration. Each corner I turned, the sight took my breath away. Cornwall is my childhood holiday destination and even the smell of my grandparents' house brings tears to my eyes and conjures a lump in my throat.

Moving on from Cornwall, I want to talk to you about Autumn. Yes, my darlings, that beautiful season which I cherish more than any other time of the year. For some, Autumn arrives when it is announced. When the month of September begins, people begin to greet Autumn with the shake of a hand and a turn of the page of their calenders . For others, Autumn begins when the weather forecast begins to announce cold weather and rain, and they greet Autumn with a frown and the purchase of a new jacket. For me, Autumn begins when I notice a tree with its juicy green leaves brushed at the edges with a hint of red, and I greet Autumn with a skip in my step and a search for conkers.

Yesterday, I saw 'The Autumn Tree'. I was on the train on my way home on a scorchingly hot day. You could almost hear the beads of sweat dripping off people's noses and the waves of hot air attempting to circulate around the carriage gave up their pathetic attempts so the air hung thick and incredibly sticky. It seemed like Summer. Mid-Summer. Then, glancing out of the window, 'The Autumn Tree' caught my eye and a sudden chill shuddered through my body. Autumn had arrived.

This specific tree had the most glaringly bright green leaves it was almost impossible to imagine that Autumn was on its way, however just tickling the tips of these leaves were speckles of crimson. A burst of red on the edges that made the leaves seem as if they had just caught fire. I stared at this spectacular blaze until the train passed 'The Autumn Tree', dreams of playing conkers, devouring toffee apples, purchasing a beautiful knitted scarf all engulfed my brain and Summer began to go fuzzy around the edges. It was over, I declared. Autumn was beginning.

For me, Autumn always has been about beginnings. They say, people, that is, that Spring is all about new beginnings because new life springs up around us. Hence why it is called Spring. Ridiculous, in my opinion. Autumn is all about new beginnings. Each year, in the first days of September, bleary eyed children in over-sized uniform, clutching their bags and yawning as they make their way down the street, have a new beginning. Each year in Autumn, children begin again. They are wound up and recharged and are set off on a new adventure.

Then there are the trees, the ones which make Autumn as beautiful as it is. Trees begin the beginning of the end, if that makes sense? They burst into flames, each one of them, going from blood red, to golden, then curling into a chocolatey brown before falling off. The beginning of the end, the preparation for death, although morbid they prepare so beautifully that you're almost grateful they are about leave the earth for good because they will soon return, crisp and gentle and green, ready to go through the process again.

Autumn is my favourite season. It gives me the chance for another adventure, it smothers me in colours so bright that I wonder why darkened, tinted glasses are only used as sunglasses and not 'leafglasses' too. Perhaps someone should invent those, although why would you ever want to cover up what nature has offered to send you on your way to work and school with a beaming smile on your face? Autumn is cinnamon. Isn't it just? It tastes like cinnamon, smells like it, looks like it. Autumn should just be known as cinnamon, it is just that delicious.

I hope you all enjoy your Autumn and look out for the beauty it has to offer. Mother nature is being kind, softening the blow which is the death of all things around us. But then, once death arrives, it is coated in layers of sparkling snow and concealed behind the joys of Christmas trees and crackling fireplaces. Each season will give you something to smile about, you just have to look out for it.

Until next time which hopefully won't be too far away, dear reader,

Ayesha x

early mornings and long car journeys

Good evening my dear reader. I feel like I should explain my lack of blog posts but I am unable to. It was an odd mix of negative feelings and lack of inspiration but after waking up at the crack of dawn this morning to fly down the motorway to Cornwall, many things came to mind which I thought I might share.

The first is the journey itself. I awoke at 4:30am, yawning and stretching and blinking away the remains of my dreams which pretended to have shook me awake however it was in fact the sharp tone of the alarm clock which grasped me from a deep sleep and threw me out into the morning. I slipped on my brand new glasses (beautiful, they are, I can see things now which I would never have noticed before; the sky itself is suddenly so much clearer) and shuffled to the window where the sight which greeted me allowed a smile to spread itself across my face.

The sky was magnificent; the usual blue sky barely visible as streaks of golden yellow, pink and purple were painted over it like the swirls in the painting Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh. Just as breathtaking. Opening the window and allowing the cool, early morning air to flow in I noticed how silent it was. A flutter and twitter of birds serenaded the glorious sky as they flew up towards it, attempting to taste the colours so beautifully curling around the clouds. Then silence settled in again, shrouding the street in a blanket of tranquility which I had never before witnessed.

The journey began slowly, time scattered and stretched as the minutes seemed to last hours and the hours a lifetime. The roads were as peaceful as my street had been, only the whirring of the car and faint classical music playing could be heard. Again, I witnessed the beauty of cars and how magnificent they are to watch going about their short lifetimes which are relived with each journey (see previous blog post if confused). Once closer to Cornwall, the clouds which thanks to my new glasses I had only just made an acquaintanceship with, were suddenly surrounding the car. Engulfing it in misty wisps and causing an odd shudder to rattle through my body. As we passed over hill and valley I noticed the sheep scattering the fields and how they looked so much like white sprinkles on a fluffy green ice cream, so insignificant to a passer by yet so wonderfully placed that if you bothered to watch them it was all rather wonderful.

Although extraordinarily grey and bleak to the eye of a human who is just passing through, a rainy Cornwall is a beautiful Cornwall. Its beaches may seem unusable but in fact the sea is even more breathtaking than it usually is. The waves crash against the rocks as the rain batters the sea creating a tremendous crescendo which sounds a lot like the whistling you hear when you press your ear against a shell, only multiplied until it echoes along the coastline.

I'm extremely exhausted after the long journey and the early wake up but I have discovered in that short amount of time more beauty than I have seen in weeks. Tomorrow I am off for a bicycle ride along the coast and therefore will probably have yet more to describe to you. I hope you have enjoyed today after my being away for so long.

Ayesha x

let's waste time, chasing cars, around our heads

I know I haven't blogged in a little while but I haven't had anything to write about. Today's sudden burst of inspiration hit me on a hazily warm car journey, the sort where the windows are rolled down but the air surging into the window is not any cooler than that inside the car. That treacly sort of warm car journey. I watched the cars drive side by side and realised that roads work so beautifully. 

They represent our world. The start of the journey begins with a turn of the keys in the engine, just as life begins similarly. The car begins slowly, life just about entering its metal shell. It crawls down its first road, attempting to find its feat. Thousands of cars then weave in between one another, sometimes greeting each other with a beep of the horn or a hand signal is revealed within to thank them. People greet one another just as cars greet one another. On car journeys, the car beside you is your neighbour. The cars in front and behind and the people who have followed you on your journey.

On motorways, everything runs so fast. Cars storm ahead, overtaking and competing. This is the natural competition of life. This is each of us heading for our dreams. Some fall behind, yet are still moving. Their dreams are halted but they still lie ahead where the grassy hills continue into the distance. Some move faster than the others, their destination in sight, their wheels turning so fast they needn't look back. The rear view mirror ignored.

Then, there are those sparkling, shining moments in which cars all work together. Moments of togetherness, moments which exist in our reality. An ambulance rushes towards the cars, a warning, a disaster is on its way. Do we all continue on and ignore it? No, we all stop. We all halt and curve out of the way to let the ambulance through. Each and every car does its part. Just as we do when there is a disaster, or a charity needs our help. We all give our little bit to help out and everyone comes together so wonderfully. 

The car then nears its destination, the wheels still rolling but slowing down all the same. What seemed like a road so long and tedious to take has suddenly found its end. The weaving of the cars, greeting others, the togetherness of the occupants of the road, it's all over. The wheels stop turning, the engine switches off, the car becomes silent as its metal shell cools down. The journey is over, its time for the people to step out and begin their adventure. The next car journey is a new life.

I realise now I have just rambled on about cars and lives and the togetherness that ambulance passing through brings and I can't believe I have spoken such nonsense. I apologise so much. I promise that I will think of something better next time.

Until then, my dear sweet reader.

Ayesha x

and it was all yellow

Yellow.

It's not just a colour, it's a taste, it's a feeling. It's the first gentle brush of sunlight on dew-ridden grass, twinkling stars scattered across the ground as dew is illuminated in the glow of the morning. It's the melted butter oozing out of a crumpet as it is squeezed between your teeth, engulfing your taste buds with pleasure. It's the warmth which floods your body when a loved one hugs you, that feeling of safety, protection, the knowledge that whilst you're embraced by them nothing can harm you.

There is a house close to where I live, which I noticed with the biggest grin on my face when I was around seven, called 'Custard Cottage'. It's a small house which would be perceived as normal if it wasn't a bright, beautiful yellow colour. The colour of custard, surprisingly enough. Imagine living in a yellow house? Imagine capturing the smiles of every passenger in passing cars because the house is yellow. The colour of smiles. Imagine leaving the house and turning back and the house is cheerily watching you go, slightly sad to see you leave but glad that they have the promise of a return, for who could ever leave a yellow house for good? Would you ever leave 'Custard Cottage' if you lived there?

Stars are yellow. No, they're not just yellow, they're golden. Golden is yellow just with a little sprinkle of magic, and stars are dusted with the colour golden. I was in France quite a few years ago, cuddled in a creaky bed in the attic of a mansion. The smell of moth balls is returning to me now as I reminisce. My mum shook me awake and in a sleepy daze I stumbled out of bed and downstairs. She opened the door and the cool night air rushed around me, awakening me and drawing my attention to the sky.

I was in shock. Never before had I seen stars so close up and golden. Glittering like nothing I had seen before. Swirls of a far away galaxy suddenly an arms reach away. I held my hand out to the sky, attempting to grasp a handful of stars, yet grasping stars is like grasping a ocean made of fire. Scorching hot, it doesn't stay, and you're left with burning disappointment. However, you peer back up at these golden wonders and realise you don't need your own handful, as there they are smiling at you, and you're smiling back, and a memory is all you need.

Today, as you can tell, my prompt was to write something about the colour yellow. I have just rambled yet more nonsense, however I hope you enjoyed it and can now see just how cheery all things yellow are.

Ayesha x

Happiness can be found even in the darkest of times

I've been really struggling recently to find inspiration for these blog posts. I've been stuck around the house or have wandered around areas I have walked through so many times; my ideas are running completely dry. Additionally, as you know, there is a lot going on in my life right now. Things are getting worse at home, and the worse they get the harder I try to keep smiling, which means my mind is completely filled with the words of a wonderful friend of mine who told me that no matter how things get i'm still allowed to smile. So i'll keep smiling, i'll keep writing, i'll stay strong.

Today I will have to apologise to you as I really am running dry on ideas. Some lovely people have sent me recommendations but I've tried writing them all and as soon as I get to around a paragraph, I delete the entire thing in frustration. Nothing sounds right any more. It's as if as my heart is breaking, my ability to write is breaking too. Sentences disintegrate into lone letters which crawl weakly back to their places on the keyboard.

Without my ability to write, I have nothing. I am empty.

Today, due to my horribly mixed emotions right now which mean that tears are almost constantly running down my face either out of joy or out of sorrow, I want to tell you, my dear reader, one thing which makes me sad and one which makes me happy. Perhaps you may share the emotions I have, and can relate to this, or maybe you will read this with a blank expression and move on with your life. Either way, I will be able to look back at this post when I feel like smiling or crying and be able to do either.


Happy.

Watching people makes me happy. I love to watch people. I love to sit somewhere busy, on board a train or a tube is usually best. Somewhere where I am engulfed in clouds of other people's thoughts and can almost taste them on my tongue. Someone sat opposite me is wondering whether they should have hot or cold custard with their apple pie, and I can taste the apple pie they are imagining, sweet and cinnamon-y, tickling my taste buds. I love to watch people smile, especially when they don't realise they are doing it.

Sometimes someone's lips will curl upwards, their eyes watching the scenery roll past the window will haze over in thought, and I wonder what they are thinking of. A lover who they will open the door to and fold into their arms and hold close as they breathe in the smell of home? A book they have recently completed and are still floating in the depths of the world it contains, never wanting to leave? Whatever it is, I love to see that unexpected, accidental smile. Perhaps I am the only person who ever witnesses that moment in which the person is inexplicably happy? It's beautiful.

Sad.

I wanted to write what makes me sad here but I then realised that what makes me sad is what makes everyone sad. Losing someone, seeing people you love upset. Things which make people sad are usually similar, it's what makes you happy which makes you unique. Therefore, i'm only going to highlight what makes me happy, and hope that you already understand what makes me sad and that you don't ever have to feel that way. 

I'm shattered and my writing is no longer making any sense so i'm going off to bed. I hope you sleep incredibly well.

Ayesha x