Sunday, 30 September 2012

Ice cream

Since the last post, I've cried a lot.
I've been feeling such strong of tugs of sadness that sometimes make everything seem dark.
I haven't actively searched for happiness, if anything I am longing for it to sneak up on me again. 

Today was nice.
I saw my mum and with her she brought the comfort and love from home. I hadn't realised how much I had wanted to hug her until I actually did. 

She brought me chocolates. Including a present from a distant relative in Scotland who was surprised to learn I was at University. The present was a chocolate bar with a fiver wrapped around it. 

We went out for lunch and I showed her a bit of my Sheffield. She told me about the week she and dad had spent in St Combs and showed me pictures. They look like they had the loveliest time, which made me smile. 

St Combs is a place I was actually going to write about on here over summer. It's far up north in Scotland, near Aberdeen. It's a tiny fishing village. My dad's mum grew up there, my dad spent his childhood summers there and in turn he took our family. It is one of my favourite places. There's rarely anyone else on the beach, it's sunny and you are surrounded by blue and the sounds of waves. It's idyllic.

From this hidden gem in Scotland comes ice cream. We got it all the time when I was younger (I haven't been in about 8 years)  and I used to swear by it. It's home made and just, one of the best things I've ever tasted.

And my parents concocted a plan with the shop keeper to get some home. It involved a big plastic, picnic box, ice cream taken from the deep freeze and my parents buying a lot of ice from a local Tesco to keep it cold for the seven hour drive home.

It worked.

My mum brought me a box of it today and with that spoonful came the memories of that blue, of the sounds of waves and the feel of the sand and your thoughts of the outside world being eroded by the sea. I didn't think childhood or its memories could have a taste but I think I found mine. 

I can't say to you that I'm really, 100% happy right now. I can't say to you that I'm not scared of someone else dying. I can say I have ice cream that took a lot of love and care to get to me. I have parents who love me. I have love that I can rely on and for that, today, I can almost remember the taste of contentment. 

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