I’ve been thinking about the significance of storms marking the end of the pandemic restrictions in the UK.
In many ways, we’ll never the same people we were before this started. We’ve watched loved ones battle against more than just a virus, with emotional, mental and financial strains testing us to our limits. Our carefully laid plans have been uprooted and thrown asunder.
For me, it has been a time of huge creative focus, the long periods of welcome solitude giving me the time to reflect. I have emerged as a writer and that is something I never expected when I left India to come back for lockdown. My memoir had been shelved for good, or so I thought.
Around 15 years ago, I visited Bermuda two weeks after a hurricane. The roads were riddled with holes where trees had been uprooted but the trees and bushes were dotted with flowers, determined to push their faces towards the sun.
I see that now, here, with spring buds waiting to burst open after the February winds have softened. I will be ready to join them. Will you?