• Family

    Life’s Lenses

    He trudged into the shadows, his limbs aching, his joints cracking. The ground was dry and brown like cocoa powder, and the trees swished above him. There was no one around, except for nature’s early risers. He breathed the cool air deep down into his aged lungs, and when he breathed out, he could almost see his breath fall amongst the dried up leaves and broken twigs. Wasted breaths. All those years. He hadn’t appreciated the touch of a child’s hand on his shoulder, the whisper of a wife’s love in his ear, the smell of tea made especially for him by a teenager reaching out. Everything he had ignored,…

  • Dreams

    The Postman

    For some people, a job is just a job. Nine til five. Downing a coffee, organising, emailing, phoning, delegating, sorting, wolfing down lunch, some more emailing, downing a coffee, consulting with colleagues, discussing, downing a coffee, meeting deadlines, catching up with the boss, more emailing. And on it goes, day after day. I used to think of my job as just a job. Until one day, I delivered a special parcel to a young woman who had recently lost her husband. She ripped it open like it held the answer to everything she’d been questioning. I don’t know why a silver medal on a royal blue ribbon overwhelmed her like…