What I Saw Today.

Some of what I saw today. 

As I strolled along a street in Brighton the other day, on my way to catch a bus, I saw a young blind man, leaning against a wall, chatting on his phone, while his companion waited patiently, clutching what must have been his white stick.

At the end of this road - clearly in my view - was the way to the sea.  I wondered how he felt about not being able to see the what I could and how it would feel to me.

I could conjure it my mind's eye with the memory of many a walk taken and hundreds of hours spent just sitting and staring, but he might never have done either and, anyway, it's no real substitute.

So, today, I looked with new eyes.  Sat on the top deck, I watched it all away along the coast - the greys and greens, the hues of blues.  Oh, how those of us who live here take it for granted.

Once in town, I took more notice of other things too - the childrens' funny flip flops for sale on a stand, for example and the copious colours glaring and jumping out of the shop windows.  What would normally jar, I rejoiced in, today, together with the pretty patterns on the beautiful clothes, the leaves on the trees and the sky - always a wonder - too.

I took more time, slowed right down, paid more attention and appreciated what I saw.

Once home, all chores were abandoned and I went to see the sea again, thinking of that young blind man  - how he would feel the spray in the air, smell the seaweed and taste the salt.  And a paramount part of the pleasure - how he would hear it.

I hoped he could enjoy everything else - especially today.  It was sunny and windy - my favourite, as each of the senses are truly tickled.  I felt extra blessed and humbled for all five of mine.

Later on, I lingered for longer at the trampoline as my son leapt about laughing.  I watched his expressions of excitement and exhilaration and could feel healing in my heart.

I gloried in the green of the grass and the garden, instead of worrying about the weeding and fretting about the stuff that forever never gets done.

I watched the clouds at 9.30pm when it was still quite light.

And on turning in, I lay there realising that perhaps I may not have two ha'pennies to rub together, but I am rich beyond measure.

(Until next door's newly acquired cockerel kept cock-a-doodle-doo-ing and I've had to start all over again!).

What will you see today?

Anya xx