Flash fiction - An Open Window

After two months I've happily found a little space and time to write today as the snow falls, not so softly, past my window on the river. Baby sleeps and chirps to himself alongside the pitter patter of my typing. I've linked up this week with Julia's Place and her 100WCGU write. The prompt is ... the suitcase lay open ... Thanks for reading. Comments welcome! 

An Open Window

The suitcase lay open, like an invitation. Like a white flag. 

How could he possibly choose between what to take and what to leave behind? Everything in the room was meaningless. His heart lurched as he grabbed at clothes and books. His hands touched his things, but he felt nothing stuffing them into the tiny space his whole word had become. 

He knew they were coming, but the bangs on the door startled him anyway. He sprang towards the window, stuffing himself through with his case, his foot knocking the photo of Dora, her face forever etched on his heart. 

100 words

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You don't know what you've got...

... until it's gone. Ah, the power of hindsight. Does it always lead to regret? I hope not.

My husband and I are not living where we would like to be right now. We're waiting - for that chance, a move, a decision that works in our favour, an opportunity to grab and run away with, a new place, a new start. We've been waiting for a while. It's hard. We are impatient to live our own lives, do our own things, make our own choices, and our own mistakes.

We are living in Norfolk, in the town I grew up. It was an idyllic childhood, full of playing on the beach and in fields; long bike rides, lots of sport, camping. I would sit on the cliff top with friends, eating chocolate and gossipping until it was time to go home. No one worried about us. We would always be home.

You only notice these things when you live away, in big, bad cities around the world. But then those bustling places have also shown you theatre, music, food, the buzz and spontaneity of the city. You've learnt to be free and anonymous and go where the night takes you; you've also learnt to keep an eye out.

But wherever I've lived, I've learnt to appreciate what it gives me: The warm people of Liverpool; the sea outside my flat in Hunstanton; the natural beauty of Iguazu Falls in Brazil, the endless incredible sunsets and sunrises on the road; the ' buena onda'* in Buenos Aires; the choice in London. That's not to say that Liverpool, Hunstanton, Brazil, the road, Buenos Aires and London don't all have their disadvantages - they do - but you have to see the positive; see the adventure.

That's why over the last couple of weeks, Martín and I have been capturing moments that we know we wouldn't be able to have were it not for the fact we are currently living here. Knowing that, it's going to make hindsight all the more sweeter. Here are a few I wanted to share:

Having time to play with my camera

Taking a walk on North Norfolk's most stunning beach

Birthday parties with the dog

Late spring walks in the woods 

Old friends, same place

Bike rides along the routes of my youth

Cooking competitions

Making my parents do random things like Eater Egg Hunts

* 'Buena Onda' is a phrase in Argentina that embodies positive energy, good vibes and fun.  

Getting it good

If there's any month for some self/life/love/work evaluation, January usually gets the job. New year, new you! headlines will cry out. Change, change, change, best, best, best, forwards, forwards, forwards: this is what we all need to keep going through life happier/healthier/lovelier/more successful.

Resolutions made in that burst of Januaryness will fade as real life gets its grip back and the old routines, preferences and realities fold you back into your life. The perfect body/partner/job will disappear on the horizon as commitments and deadlines replace dreams and ideas. Instead of change, change, change it becomes can't, can't, can't. 

Perfection doesn't exist. The plan is just to make it good. That doesn't necessarily mean huge sacrifices and a wipe-out of all you have now. Before anything, it means a fair assessment. What you have, not what you haven't. In a world defined by our need for more, it only takes a second to sit quietly and count what you have right now. You'll surprise yourself. You might even see it's already some way to being good.

Good, with moments of both brilliance and despair, is good enough. There is nothing wrong with making something better; one step - one sure, solid step at a time. Jumping a mile ahead, only to get injured, fall down or completely collapse is a lesson that says, 'I am still there, but take your time.'

I have a tendency to jump in with two feet without thinking. No, that's wrong. I am the sort of person who will jump in with two feet without thinking. I used to have no patience and now I have a little bit. This patience helps me look around once in a while. I may have moved just a couple of steps, but I can still see a dream on the horizon. I'm still there. I don't need to try and hitch a ride and change the itinerary. 

January comes from the Latin word ianua, meaning door. The future will never be your idea of perfection if the present isn't good. So open the door inch by inch. Throwing it open might only lead it to it swinging back shut with a bang.