I noticed I had an unopened text and opened my inbox, convinced for a second that it would be a new year note from Dad.
Then realised that, of course, it couldn’t be.
But now I think maybe it was?
Perhaps those seconds where we forget and feel their presence so strongly are little bubbles of all that unspent love squeezing through time, or at least consciousness, to momentarily bring them back to us.
I was walking by the marina earlier and noticed a circle of ripples suggesting that a cormorant had just dived under. Sure enough, after watching for a few moments I saw one bob up between the next row of boats and paddle around for a moment before dipping back out of site beneath the water.
It was the sort of thing that would have delighted Dad, and I felt a warm glow of connection to him that put an extra bounce in my step.