Stories for when you're not where you thought you'd be

I glanced along the table at the group of mostly-strangers I had chosen to spend Mothering Sunday with. None of them were related to me. Aside from the one friend I came with, I had never set eyes on any of them before today. Yet something about them seemed strangely familiar. A quiet goodness. Once again, I was grateful I’d come. I had hesitated, given the date. But instead, I took a moment. I took a day. I took a whole Sunday to do some art. Almost on a whim, I had booked a

It was the first time I’d heard this. Ever. It was remarkable. In those few captured moments, in the whiteness of the sunlit room. The blandness of the plastic chairs. The sense of people gathering to share and learn. And here, the most important learning of all for me. The most important thing I heard that day. Maybe that year. That it’s ok. I stared astonished. Because no one had ever told me this. For the previous three weeks I had been working on the Otomí language projec

The summer I graduated, a friend asked if I wanted to go to a careers fair with her in London. Honestly? I didn’t know if I wanted to, didn’t even understand the concept really. I knew I should , I just didn’t know what to expect. Certainly, I didn’t know what to wear. I hadn’t been power-dress shopping yet, and even when I did, I never quite got that look. So, I threw on a flowy patterned skirt and a smart blue top. And spent all day feeling like I’d landed on another plane

Can places hold a memory of the future? Because, when I see it, I remember almost instantly. Moloney’s Strand. The beach there. The diagonal path and how it sits at a specific angle to the lane. The wide metal farm gate that leads to it, the small scratchy walkway down to stream-etched sand. I thought we’d never been here before, but when I see that grass-edged path, I remember. And I know for certain when it was. Over 16 years ago. When we were a family of three. So complete