Wishes, Hopes and Dreams

Somehow we’re all in bed several hours earlier than usual. Everybody else is sound asleep. I’m sitting in bed, laptop propped on my lap, tapping quietly away at the keys while listening to nice tunes in my ears. I can only see the keys via light cast from the screen. Thankfully I’m pretty good at touch typing.

I remember gazing in wonder at people that could type when I was young - watching their fingers fly over the keys, and regarding it as some sort of magic trick. Of course I am old enough that those keyboards were typewriters. Now of course I am the person that children watch with wonder - especially given that I don’t follow the conventional method - I kind of rely on pivoting on my wrists from a given position, I suppose - and have huge hands, so can reach all the keys without moving my hands from that pivot point.

Best not to overthink it. I like to think everybody finds their own way with typing.

It’s been a tough day. Our eldest daughter is going through a difficult time at the moment. After making good progress battling her demons in recent months, she’s taken an enormous step back. It’s heartbreaking. We’re doing all we can, but anybody that’s walked this road knows there really isn’t much you can do other than be present - doing your best to catch, pick up, and dust down. Late night trips to buy chocolate occasionally help, it seems.

While wondering what to write next, Sailing by Christopher Cross has arrived in my ears. It always reminds me of somebody. Music often does that to me - reminds me of people, places, and moments from the past. In much the same way that Mrs Darling discovered Peter scrawled all over her daughter’s mind while tidying up her thoughts, I find recurring names tied to many of my memories.

Happy thoughts. Wistful thoughts. Wishes. Hopes.

Anyway.

It’s late.

Time to let my brain invent a dream that no doubt feature those recurring names in the most improbable situations. Or the most obvious. You never can guess.