Reaching the dinner table.

Yes, I know it's very long...sorry. I don't know if you can call it a poem, but I'm actually quite proud of it :) A small documentation of just a bunch of people that stuck in my mind from London. So, here it is...

However unlikely it may seem

That one sound can bring comfort to some

And terror to others

Much like the flickering lights

And closed in spaces,

You appear indifferent

You are calm, able to smile

It must be nice,

In your world.

For it’s obvious to me

That, for now, you aren’t really there

As for you, you make me smile

A reminiscent smile

At an age I feel I may have passed

Or even never partaken in

A small chuckle behind your hands

And a gossip about a man

That you have never met

But despise all the same

“He said he’s going to propose in two years.”

Spontaneity and romanticism may be dead after all

“She can’t have said yes…”

I wonder if you realise how cliché you sound

Or that the woman next to you

Is shuffling closer to me

And rolling her eyes in my direction

Wondering if I will judge you too

You too, make me smile

Not for a time that has already been

But one that I may experience

In a foreseeable future.

I can see in her eyes

This was not the life she had planned

As daddy’s little ‘princess’

How long ago was it,

And how much does she miss it

Now that she must learn the rules

Of something that doesn’t come with a manual.

I ask myself if you appreciate her

As much as she does you

It wasn’t like she expected

It’s hard

And she feels alone

The train rocks you

As she does

Until your eyes droop

And you sleep soundly in her arms

She smiles, finding happiness

In being here

With you

She will try her best

For you

To be a good person

To say yes more than no

To tell you the truth

And stand by you

My stop approaches faster than I expected

And I shift in my seat

Feeling an uncomfortable heat

Trapped in my coat

The coldest winter in over thirty years

Apparently

She’s trying to make eye contact

With you

Across the aisle

And across me

I almost feel violated too

As her stare bores into your closed lids

Your eyes dart underneath

Trying not to open

As a giggle breaks out across the way

Breaking the quiet

And one eye cracks open

To glare in that direction

She looks again

Seeing that flash of panic

Cross your face

As you realise she’s back

I chuckle to myself

As your eyes crinkle shut

And you pretend to doze once more

We reach the escalators

And bottleneck together

To allow two lanes of traffic

A slow lane

And a fast line

As they rush up to the office

With coffee in hand

Sloshing back and forth in the cup

And splashing their Armani suit

I can relax

And run my foot against the bristles

On the side of the escalator

Like the children behind me

Finding the simpler things in life the best.

Dinner is on the kitchen side

Waiting for me

Although you’ve already eaten

You decide to sit with me

Asking me about my day

With the genuine interest

That you always seem to have

That I love about you

That makes me smile

When I see your disappointed expression

As I say

“Same old, same old.”

Sink or swim?

Today, because I had no other means of getting home, I joined my mum and my five year old brother at his swimming class. The pool is privately owned by a friend of his, so it's just them in the pool in these sessions. I watched him get in the pool, anticipating him taking off and steaming to the end. However, as his friend powered up and down the pool, I was disappointed to see my brother flailing and spluttering numerous times.

It was surprising how much it bothered me that he simply wasn't as good as his friend. Me and my sister have always been avid swimmers since we both learned; I couldn't seem to understand why he wasn't as good as I thought he would be automatically, not realising that I was in fact older than him when I learned and, most probably, took longer than he did.

It wasn't until the session was nearly over and I was hunched over on the floor that this struck me, as they played a particular 'game'. The instructor brought out two diamond shaped rubber toys, which, when she pressed a button on the top, flashed for about a minute. The aim was that she threw them and the boys had to swim down, get them and bring them back to the steps. I didn't have high hopes for him as she threw them both a decent way away, setting his friend off first, who retrieved it and brought it back like a fish. My brother watched them; occasionally glancing to me and my mum, then went to get his. As he had before, he got about half way, swimming beneath the water, and then returned to the surface, spluttering for air. The instructor held him up by his arms, telling him firmly not to touch the bottom of the pool with his feet, otherwise there was no point to the exercise, then asked him if he wanted to swim down and get it. After my earlier disappointment, I hadn't expected him to effect me in the way he did when he looked down and said, with such dejection:

"It isn't flashing anymore..."

His instructor told him it was because he'd been 'too slow', then hurried him back to the steps to start another 'game'. I was angry at how she seemed to brush him off, but realised it was all part of a process of learning; obviously I'm not a swimming teacher.
Although I thought I already did, I want to fully accept that if he isn't good at swimming right now then so be it, he'll get better; there are things we can and can't change, but we can change how we react to them.

In the meantime...

While sitting here, not really sure what to do with myself, or this space, I've decided to upload something that I find equally inspiring.
These few photos are the more editorial shots from a wedding that me and my dad photographed together for our neighbor's son and his wife, they were tight on money and, as always my mum volunteered me for it. However, I'm glad I did; it was a unique and exciting learning experience for me, giving me new photos to show, one or two grateful hugs and a few more invitations to shoot for other people. I also had the privilage of working with probably the most adorable and well mannered children that you could ever meet, not fussing once when I asked for a photo.