New Year’s Eve is the night when time asks us to look back. Not with nostalgia, but with honesty. It is not a celebration so much as a reckoning — an inventory of moments that never asked to be remembered but stayed anyway. The conversations that altered us. The silences that taught us more than…
Tag: writing
Quiet Reflection
When I was younger, the days between Christmas and New Year felt almost sacred. A quiet pause in the calendar where I would reflect on what had been and carefully map out what was to come. Lists were written, intentions set, dreams neatly arranged as though life itself might follow my handwriting. I still return…
Raindrops Keep Falling
In Finland, we have a word for resilience — sisu. It means the kind of grit that carries you through when willpower alone isn’t enough. I like to think I have a fair bit of it, but yesterday morning, as I woke to the sound of rain tapping against the windows, I began to wonder….
Nordic Living
I’m sitting here with a mug of tea in hand, simply contemplating life. The steam curls upward, carrying with it a quiet reminder that even the smallest rituals can anchor us. Today was a day off, and though I haven’t done anything particularly noteworthy, I’ve been reminding myself that sometimes the most productive thing we…
The Silent Clock
Where do the years go? They slip past so quickly, and yet, when I close my eyes, I feel them near — close enough to touch, close enough to step back into. I still hear the tick-tock of my grandparents’ clock, steady and sure, marking time that I never thought would run out. I still…
Next To You
Yesterday was one of those days that start normally but end with your heart in your throat. My elderly dad had a fall. It ended well, thank God, but at the time it was frightening. The ambulance came, kind paramedics checked him over, and in the evening my brother and my husband Peter took him…
Ink from Pain
I recently joined a writing group that meets at a local church — something I’ve wanted to do for a long time. It’s become one of my favourite outings now, this gathering of minds and hearts, of stories and pens. There’s something grounding about sitting in a quiet room with others who feel compelled to…
Skip with me, nanna!
We were just walking, hand in hand, the way grandmothers and little granddaughters do. The day was mild, the sky wide and blue, and her tiny fingers wrapped around mine with the kind of trust that softens your soul. “Nanna,” she said, looking up with a grin that could melt clouds, “Would you like to…
The Day I Trembled
Nineteen years ago today, I stood at the gates of eternity. Not metaphorically. Not in some dreamy, poetic sense. I stood there — suspended between breath and no breath, between the beating heart and silence. Between earth… and heaven. The cord of life has always been fragile — delicate as silk, invisible as breath. Mine…
Storyteller
My phone just gave me another warning: Storage almost full. Again. I take a lot of photos. Not always for an audience, not to curate a perfect life, but to gather crumbs — breadcrumbs in the forest of my life. Each image a small, shining proof that I saw, felt, touched, loved. That moment mattered….
Apples of Gold 