A different kind of love affair…

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Oh, how I have missed walking.  The sheer joy of feeling the fresh sun on my skin and the cool spring breeze blushing my cheeks.  The satisfaction of pushing myself up the hills to enjoy the patchwork of green fields lit up by the early morning rays.  And, whoever said that Kerala is God’s Own Country has clearly never seen the Cotswolds.

I hiked up Langley Hill this morning, lured outside by the sunshine and bored with trying to fill in a laborious Indian visa application.  And spring certainly put a spring into my step as I climbed this hill, as if carried by the wings of angels to a place where I found sanctuary on some of the darkest days. I climbed those hills often then, almost two years ago, and forced myself until the agony in my lungs and aches in my legs matched the pain in my heart.  My crying and howling carried by the whims of the gales and my tears washed away by streaming rain. I found solace in the solitude of the hills and an escape from the claustrophobia of a suffocating house full of  memories.  Those hills kept my secrets and my screaming did not echo.  I did cry this morning, but the tears were for the memory of the pain, rather than the pain itself…

But sitting at the top of the hill, breathing in the Cotswold beauty, made me realise this is home, England is my home.  The house, the hills, the village are part of my history and I cannot let go. This will be the place where I will return when my travelling days are over, and I will miss it with every fibre of my body whilst I am gone.  It will only make the homecoming sweeter and even more anticipated, when the time is right.

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2 thoughts on “A different kind of love affair…

  1. Dorothy Churchward

    Welcome back Lieve; at least for the moment. Guess you do often need to go away to appreciate what you have at home. Good to hear that the healing has begun.

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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