3:16 p.m. - 2024-01-21
Storm Isha

I wake up earlier than usual for a Sunday morning. In the warmth of my bed and the cosiness of the dark red hues from light trying to find its way through the burgundy curtains, I hear Storm Isha calling from outside. She rattles the loose tiles on the dormer with her breath, and her fingers tap my window with seemingly endless raindrops.

I get up and put my dressing gown on and pull back the curtains to watch Isha play raindrop racing down my window pane. I'm mesmerised. Every now and again, a gust of wind blows the raindrops off course from their futile battle against gravity. I have hot coffee and a warm pain au chocolat pastry while I'm cosied in bed for breakfast.

I read the messages and emails on my phone. Alan is still in hospital but is improving. Tuesday's rehearsal is cancelled. There's an offer of a well paid show at an outdoor festival in the Scottish Highlands in the summer months. Accommodation is also provided. I'm tempted and my buddy S says he will negotiate the details to see if its as good as it seems.

I'm relaxed and feeling sleepy again, there's no let up in the wind and rain outside and I close the curtains to cosy the room for an Après le petit-déjeuner snooze. Just then, she calls me to say hello and ask me how the weather is up here today. It's wild where she is. I smile and she tells me she is also still in bed and has just had tea and toast for breakfast.

We both visualise each other easily because we know each other well now, and we know each other's bedrooms and beds. She laughs and tells me yes, she is wearing my tartan pyjamas when I ask her jokingly. Are we still good for tomorrow she asks with a hint of enquiring and concern in her voice. Perhaps that's because the stormy weather may change tomorrow's outcome. Hell or high water won't stop me. She seems reassured. I eventually fall asleep again, my body cocooned by a winter duvet and warmed all over by a tender ache I feel from just the thought of her.

I dream of walking in a forest, tall ancient and wise trees stand all around me and I stop for a moment to marvel at the emerald green of the canopy. Flashes of sunlight break through as a soft breeze sways the upper branches and leaves from side to side. In that moment I see her green eyes looking at me and the sparkle in them that I'm growing so fond of. If only all my dreams were like this. If only.