So today, I had an epiphany. It’s my 15th since lockdown. It’s what I do these days, sit idly in my damp garden waiting for bolts of existential lightening to hit me. Actually, I was sitting because I’d attempted to skip, which came after two epiphanies (or epiphani?) I had last week about (i) needing to do more exercise to help me lose weight so I hopefully don’t die of Covid and (ii) needing to have more fun like I did forty years ago when I was a lass. Only I’d momentarily forgot that I’m now a big lass, with an extra 10 stone bearing down on my perimenopausal bones (I had an epiphany about organic supplements for wimmin back in May but haven’t ordered any yet) and as for the chaffing, jiggling and local birds stopping to watch me…well, I had to take a few seconds to rest my ample haunches and compose myself.

But I digress. Today’s momentous realisation is…I am happy. Not particularly earth shattering, but for me it marks…it marks…I’ve been trying to think of a metaphor, and am scrambling for something other than a cliche about giant leaps or lost and found…but that’s kind of in the realm of what I’m wanting to say. All those years ago, when the little version of me was skipping in the school playground, desperate to fit in, heavy with the cares of my complex family and what I saw as a limited future, the thing I found hardest to imagine was a time when I would feel carefree, unencumbered and, despite what my new digital scales tell me, light. I’m finally occupying a space and season that fills me with optimism, even with the very real challenges that this world is throwing at us right now. I have faith that we humans who love can work things out. I have faith that artists are going to rise up and paint, sing, dance and write it better. I believe that those of us with a heart for revolution, for fending off the real enemies of hate, poverty, ignorance and greed will win. 

I’m having a Rocky moment. Eye of the tiger. Where’s that skipping rope?

Photo by Zach Lucero on Unsplash