‘Is it the weather that foretells the changes in life like the changing of the seasons?’, Janet thought as the wind caught her dark shoulder length hair, lifting it and blowing it around her face.
She watched as the sea was whipped up and crashed against the shore, more fiercely than just thirty minutes ago.
‘How fast change happens’ she pondered as memories knocked at her mind, wanting to be released and viewed. Janet would not allow then to be free. This was not the time or the place to go there.
She walked briskly across the sand allowing her shoes to fill with the moist stuff.
She often came to the sea to cast off her problems, her negative thoughts, he murky emotions.
Today it just wasn’t working. Memories were clambering to be dealt with, to be acknowledged, to be faced and nothing this tumultuous weather and restless sea could do would wash them away.
She rushed back to her small apartment, ignoring the tourists huddled down against the wind, like walking weather-proof sleeping bags, no skin visible.
As she opened the door to her apartment Jasmine, a very fastidious Siamese, mewed in disgust at the draft that followed Janet in.
Soon the central heating was warming the place and the kettle was boiling in the kitchen as Janet looked to distract herself further, putting off the inevitable.
Then there was nothing left for it.
She placed her coffee on the small table next to the window and tucked her feet under her as she sat in her favourite, time-worn, plump cushioned arm-chair.
It was time.
Her mothers face came flooding into her mind’s eye. Slight and beautiful, a picture Janet couldn’t quite place in her experience.
She was sitting, young and happy on the doorstep of a house Janet remembered living in when she was just a small child. Maybe seven years old.
Janet was coming home from school and observing her mother while she approached the house.
She was laughing with neighbours and watching Janet and her sister carefully as they crossed the road toward home.
Her smile was warm and loving as she hugged her girls close and invited them to sit next to her, one either side.
And she told them how much she loved them. How different they were to each other and how that made them more precious in unique ways.
The tears had come then and Janet grabbed a tissue from the table, and noticed the rain heavy now.
Those days seemed so distant, so very far away.
Her mother had passed ten years ago and her sister had ceased all contact, as if their mother was the only evidence that they were related.
And non of this had troubled Janet for a long time. She thought she had dealt with it. She had moved on, changed herself and her life.
Generally she was very happy and very positive.
It was the dreams and the flooding memories that had begun in the last two weeks that were unnerving her now.
What was her unconscious trying to tell her?
What was it that she was not seeing?
And today on the beach.
She desperately pulled at the fragment of memory she had so hastily pushed back down.
Now she was wanting to see it in its fullness, ready to deal with the lesson it brought to her.
His eyes had sparkled and his face was alight with laughter.
She felt the love swell within her chest. A feeling she’d locked away with the memories three years ago.
It was their wedding day, that memory she recalled.
He was laughing at the blue ribbon she’d used to tie back her hair. He’d recognised it.
It was the same ribbon he’d used on Jasmine, when he’d presented her to Janet for her thirtieth birthday only three months after they’d met.
Jasmine was a bundled of disgruntled fluff, a tiny kitten at the time and had been mistaken as a ‘James’.
Janet smiled at the though that Jason had insisted on all of the ‘J’ names as if it bound them close in some way, like the ribbon.
It was the same ribbon he’d tugged from her hair on their wedding night, that seemed to tie them together in an unimagined bliss.
Sitting in a chink of sunlight that broken through the clouds, senses, feelings were aroused in her that Janet had buried so very deep.
She was smiling and crying at the same time as she allowed the pictures to flow like old movies in her own private viewing show.
After an hour and two boxes of tissues, she was done.
And she knew.
The lesson was there for her.
The mad, fun-loving guy who had lit up her world and had passed just as quickly as he’d arrived had left her with a legacy of magical memories.
Her beautiful mother who had treasured her and taught her to dance whose legacy was in her own smile, her own laugh.
Yet she’d spent the last three years focusing on the bad, the negative, the anger, hoping she could deny the love she still felt as love didn’t die, although they had.
And now she was ready to recall and acknowledge and reopen her heart to the memories and feelings that she had not honoured or appreciated until now.
It was the love, the laughter and pure bliss she would focus on and cling to now.
Her coffee was cold.
The pain had almost gone.
In its place a profound, blissful peace, wrapped in a ribbon of love as blue and deep as the deepest ocean.
With much appreciation