tuesday; 9.39pm
It's been a hard couple of weeks what with the deadlines at work while trying to plod through reports at the same time so I can send it off to The Hague. Despite the long hours, I managed to retain a semblance of a life and caught up with friends since I'd not seen most of them since before I left for my trip. But the hard crash back to reality has been awful- instead of spending afternoons at a hammam in Granada or walking around the colosseum in Rome, I am at my desk tinkering the billable hours away.
But I was glad to finally set time aside to work on the garden on my balcony. As a result, here I am, sitting outside on a cool summer's night enjoying the sight of purple tufts of lettuce, the french beans inching its way upwards and the light scent of lavender lingering in the air. I can't wait for the tomatoes and strawberries to bear fruit and for the herbs to make its way into my cooking. It's moments like these when I have a bit of quiet to myself that I realise that things are good. I let the disappointment of the day roll off my shoulders and think fondly about a certain someone instead of letting the agony of the distance get to me instead.
The 15 hour time difference has been wearing me down and the daily email correspondence while always a pleasant distraction is no substitute for having that someone around. But each time I feel like giving up, I am reminded of our date in London - the walks around Westminster, freezing our toes off while trying to find our way in Paddington and a midnight movie that unfolded into endless conversation. And all it takes is a conversation on the phone and I am laughing or we're engaging in the witty repartee we seem to do so well... and it catches me unaware for I find myself hoping, against all odds.
"All in time you know I'll see you again and again
Every night I'm going to hold and hold you and then
For the light I will rescue and then we'll begin
To start it all over again"
- Saving grace, Pete Murray