Memories...

I asked a male friend of mine ‘What is the definition of a wife’ and in four words he told me:

Love

Protect

Respect

Adore

Many years of being together and he still thinks of his wife in those terms.

It got me to thinking about love and how we depict what that word means “love” we each have a different perspective.

My grandparents were married sixty two years when my grandma passed away. My happiest memory of them was watching their hands clasped together as they walked down the street at the ages of seventy plus. I always said if I could find a man like my granddad I’d be happy but they don’t make men like him anymore, he was a once in a life time mold…

 He adored my grandma, you could see it in his eyes every time he looked at her, touched her, the way his eyes twinkled when she did something silly and the way his face lit up when she came into the room. They passed away many years ago but that kind of love is still fresh in my mind when I think of them.

My job is spent trying to bring that love alive on paper, I hope that I do, as an author I feel it is my responsibility to give woman everywhere a happy ever after…we’re all not as lucky as my grandparents were to have a love that lasted a lifetime.

When we’re young we think that life is going to go on forever but as we get older it’s completely clear that it isn’t.  As each day passes faster than the last I want to live life to the full and do all those things that I’ve dreamed about. Undoubtedly I have been lucky to do a lot of what is on my bucket list, more than most and I’m grateful for that.

As I get ready to have surgery in two weeks I look forward to the rest and recuperation it will entail to get me on the road to recovery. I have many books that I want to read and ideas about what my next books will be about. Although I’ve already mapped out this year’s books I will be setting out my plans for 2016 ideas to get down on paper.

Summer will be around the corner before we know it but first I look forward to the snowdrops and daffodils of spring, the scent of newly picked flowers is welcoming and nurturing and as the granddaughter of a florist it brings back so many happy memories of helping my grandma prepare bouquets.

Going with my granddad in his Triumph Herald car to pick up boxes of flowers from the train in Holyhead station is a memory that I will never forget…