If you were to step inside my home, you would see that I find profound beauty in objects that wear their stories on their surface; the cracks, the bruises, the battle scars of life.
Faded foliage speaks more to me than a fresh bloom. Leather that's scuffed and cracked will always be favoured over the shiny and new. The reverse side of the picture frame reveals the most gorgeous patina; long forgotten and under-appreciated.
I'm making a conscious effort lately to see people in this very same way.
If I can see profound beauty in these seemingly flawed objects, surely I can embrace imperfections in myself and others in the same way, recognising them as the gifts that they are.
Having a second child is proving to be the ultimate lesson in letting go. I've still got a way to go but I'm slowly accepting the fact that I simply can't be perfect.
More importantly, I'm realising that I don't have to be, either.
Posted by one claire day at 20:19