The wind I thought I was walking through.
It’s seven o’clock.
The sky is washed in soft pinks and blues and suddenly understand those faded island colours you see in surf shops and old beach towns. Dawn really does look like that.
Somewhere in the distance I can hear the sea.
The trees are perfectly still.
There isn’t a breath of wind.
It’s bitterly cold. My hands are already freezing.
And as I walk, I can feel icy air cutting straight through my clothes. It makes me hunch my shoulders and tuck my chin into my jersey.
But when I stop. . .
The trees aren’t moving.
The grass isn’t moving.
There is no wind.
The cold air rushing through my clothes is the air I’m creating simply by walking.
How have I lived all these years and never noticed that?
Perhaps that’s why I love these morning walks.
Not because they take me somewhere new.
Because they keep revealing things that have been quietly true all along.
What stopped you today?