living

… is being 5, hopping in puddles and fearing only the smack of Mother on your bottom.

… is being 21, fresh out of university, wiping your sweaty palms on your pants before greeting your prospective First Ever Real Boss.

… is being 50, facing menopause and scared shitless.

… is watching a tropical thunderstorm, feeling the thunder rumble in your chest.

… is dancing in pyjamas and golden heels.

… is indulging in a glorified slice of cheese toast, rich like hell – allowing the blankets of cheese and smothered refined dough to rest briefly on your tongue before your teeth commit digestive murder.

… is sitting on a swing and feeling like an immortal child, singing to the sea at the edge of a cliff, eating chocolate everyday, grilling muffins and over-boiling spaghetti.

… is being tickled till you can’t breathe, kissed till your mouth aches, whispered sweetly to till you cry.

… is getting hopelessly trapped in your duvet cover, listening to a wrinkled man talk, looking into a beggar’s eyes while you drop change into his cup.

… is walking out of church to find God, being dazzled by stars, slow-dancing on the beach, listening to your favourite song over and over again.

… is confessing stupidity, being proud to dance in front of 500 people, making stories out of clouds, loving someone and showing it.

… is.