The year is drawing to a close. Christmas is within touching distance. And my annual period of contemplation has presented itself ahead of it’s normal ETA.

My mind has wandered often during recent weeks and even more so in recent days. It considers becoming a yoga teacher. It reflects on life as a stay at home mum versus life as a working mum. It (farcically) wonders how it can be more present. It checks out bigger houses in “better” areas that we can’t afford. It even goes as far as imagining relocating to sunnier climes. It contemplates – as it does every year – the future.

Not just my future, my children’s future and the future of the world we live in. As, in my opinion, those three things are inextricably linked. I, like many others across the world, feel a deep deep sadness when I think about the recent tragedy in Newtown, Conneticut. And I am horrified by the seemingly vast number of crimes against children in my own country. Even if it was just one crime, I would still be appalled. And I search my mind, my heart and my soul. How can we keep our children safe? Where can we raise them to ensure that they will have a long, happy and healthy life? And I wish I had foolproof answers. But, I don’t.

There is something about the end of one year and the beginning of the next, that prods my inner dreamer to wake up and make some plans. Before daily routine suppresses its enthusiasm and sends it back into a dark quiet corner somewhere. It strikes me that, this year, I have experienced more endings and beginnings than usual, and that maybe, this is the reason for my process starting early.

Experience has taught me that if I allow my thoughts to find their own path, they usually introduce themselves in illuminated fashion. And so I find myself practising patience (as I often ask Strawbug to do – neither of us are very good at it, I hastened to add), waiting for the big reveal.


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