rewinding
East Lothian, January to April 2024
Last week, I shared a rewind post on TWATH to mark the end of the year - two posts, but this was the first one and for me, the most meaningful. I mulled over whether or not to share it here too. This post sits well on Instagram because most people reading it there would know the back story. They’d understand the relevance of every word of the caption. But this blog is a different space.
But then I realised that most people who arrive here probably do so from Instagram, and that while I don’t want this blog to be about looking back all the time, regular readers will know that I do; that the past informs the present. That the walks we take with Raf and the coastal landscapes I share here were originally (except for Barns Ness) the places we discovered with Harris and Bracken.
So, with that in mind, this rewind feels right to share here too. I was sitting on the sofa on Hogmanay eve last week scrolling through an entire year of photos in Lightroom, trying to choose just twelve images, one from each month, only I wasn’t sure how to select twelve photos that would explain or reflect the year. 2023 was the hardest, saddest year of my life, of our lives as a family, and 2024 followed on from that with the weight of grief, more loss, and the steady unravelling of my mental health.
But, as I looked back through the first four months of the year, from January to April, I realised that these weeks were about more than all the weight. These months were about more than our last chapter with Bracken. They were about so much more than anxiety and fear and dread and heartbreak and grief. They were about more than the days before and the days after.
They were about walks below big skies, the clouds constantly shifting. They were about the textures of the beaches we walked along together. They were about the rush of wind in the trees, pine branches rustling and crashing around us. High tide at Hedderwick Sands and the way the light gleamed on the water. That gorgeous walk at Yellowcraig in late March when the sunlight glowed golden on the sand, casting long shadows.
They were about the gentle crunch of shells underfoot, and woodland paths scattered with pine cones, Bracken meandering slowly behind his Dad as his body grew more tired and more heavy, but still, never losing his determination. Pebbles picked up in remembrance. That frozen February day when we walked to Eyebroughy and Bracken cantered along the golf course, relishing the springy grass. Arriving at Yellowcraig and lowering the car window so he could take in the sniffs, wrapped in a blanket because of the chill, his weight resting in my arms. The creep of longer days and more light as winter moved towards spring.
Sitting in the car in the rain at John Muir, waiting for a break in the weather, and the way Bracken always placed his right paw on my knee.
Those four months were about all of these things, and they were about all of those other things, the hard things. So I’m drawing these memories closer to the surface. It’s natural to look back as we shift from one year into the next, but I want to remember that even within those hard months, there was a lot that was good. There was a lot to be grateful for.
East Lothian, January to April 2024.
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