Restless sleep. Awake at six.
The air is crisp, holding that fragile space between night and day.
The moon lingers, a quiet smile in the fading dark
while beneath the clouds, the sun begins its patient rise.
A changing of guard. A reminder that nothing stays still.
Friday carries its own rhythm.
My favourite workday, lighter somehow.
My granddaughter counts down the hours
until her first sleepover with a friend.
Simple joy. Pure anticipation.
The week has been heavy.
Emotionally. Mentally.
The kind of tiredness that settles deep.
Chinese New Year approaches,
the Year of the Horse.
Movement. Strength. Forward motion.
Shedding the Year of the Snake.
Releasing what coils too tightly around the spirit.
Letting go of what no longer serves.
The world feels intensely yin and yang.
Destruction and abundance,
suffering and excess,
all delivered instantly to our screens.
So I return to my own ground.
My breath.
My work.
My family.
Gratitude as anchor.
Mindfulness as compass.
Step by step into a new year.
The Lady in the Back Row 