Wandering aimlessly, I turn down a quiet side street. Halfway down, a door stands open to welcome the world. I stroll past and glance in. Perched on a hard wooden chair, an elderly lady sits. Headscarf firmly tied, wrapped up against the breeze, enjoying the bright sun. Her eyes smile at me; I pause to greet her. Balanced on her knees lies a cushion with delicate white lace. Fine as cobweb, pinned down with carved wooden bobbins, spangled with glass beads. Her fingers nimbly twist and plait, creating beauty. Calm and peace and tranquility. It seems such a wonderful thing, to sit and breathe and be.
Three years ago or more, that was. Home from my journeying I vow to create such things. One day. Two years ago or so they were bought, the lace-making tools. They laid in the box, waiting for one day. Today, while the sun gleams silver on the sea, and the tide rolls the stones, one day finally arrives. I sit and create – not yet a work of art, of cobweb lace, glinting in the light – but a beginning of a journey. Calm and peace and tranquility – and a small piece of bobbin lace to remind me – to sit and breathe and be.