Heaven doesn’t answer the phone…….

heaven dont3

Nostalgia is so powerful, sometimes it can become almost crippling. The longing for the lost, the time past, the people, the smells, sounds, feelings, warmth or cold. A simple smell can propel me into such nostalgia of what i emotionally attached that smell too, someone i loved, someone i admired, or someone who inspired, and the fact they are no longer here. I am so happy when summer comes, as it symbolises to me a freedom i adore, to travel, to live free, from university and times of school. But with each summer that comes i loose something also, another year. Maybe another person or two, for different reasons. This summer i have had to stop and take account of how much my life has changed in the last five years. And how it has changed me. And how in the next five years i may loose more than i gain, or gain more than i have lost. Either way when I am sat alone, in a cemetery reading a book or a park or coffee shop and i see people interacting. The old the young, the lovers and strangers. I sit there and wish I could just pick up the phone and speak to my nan. Tell her about everything thats going on, that I am doing, that I want to do. And to hear her accent as she says she loves me before she hangs up the phone. I would so  sacrifice so much to hear that again, just one more time. Just one. To trace the sound of her breathing with the sounds she pronounces her syllables. Therefore this was my image to give to my nan, who never got to see my work, my talent, who never got to share this part of my life with me, but i know she would be so immensely proud of me. I hope she would be. I wish i could just phone her ……….. but heaven doesn’t answer the phone.

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