Christmas has come and gone in a blur of family games, seafood, candlelight and wrapping paper. Nephews and oysters and pots and pans. Boxing Day we joined Pete's family for a buffet and mingled with families from all over. Dad took over the kitchen as usual to whip up king prawns and lobster thermadore. Trees glowed in golden light for the final few hours of each day and further north, snow blanketed fields in a matter of hours. On the 27th we ventured early into the icy winds to pick oysters. On Mersea Island dad and I crunched our way around coastline that would soon be swallowed up by the hungry sea. The sun peaked just as we were leaving, but I'd previously seen it dancing out at sea through broken clouds. When we were kids we used to say that was heaven opening, and even now it stirs something in me that makes everything feel new again.
I flicked through to last years resolutions recently - reminding Pete along the way of innocuous moments that would otherwise have been the white noise of unremarkable days. This year has seen me resent and miss the city that held my homesick hands... I am busier than I knew possible and felt time pulled from under my feet in these last few months. Because of this, I'm anticipating years ahead- they seem miles away but I know will creep up suddenly like this December frost did. Twenty two still feels so young, and the older I get, the more I realise I know nothing at all. It's the learning that pieces these years together in the long run, and I suppose that's the best part of growing up.
