One year on

A friend sent me two pictures to mark the one-year passage of  life.  It’s deeply instructive, as she noted.

In 2013, I look aged and defeated in this view from Barrington.  The bookshelves hold possessions remaining and the smile is forced. My face is lined, my weight was under 11 stone.  I remember being torn between rebuilding or surrendering my plans for a full and happy life.

In 2014, I remember the hiking along the seashore, the breeze in my hair and the future in view.  I felt relaxed and content, my weight back to 11 stone 8, and my confidence in hand.

There are still bad days and long nights, hurt and sadness if I let my guard down.  I credit close friends and mij w.wezen with curbing my impulses and putting my feet onto a forward path,  feel well along towards a better alternative.

And hopefully never to end up as the expat at the end of the bar, the white-haired quiet one that nobody can recall when or how he arrived.

Or the solitary septuagenarian strolling a boardwalk alone in Bournemouth.