Walking around a museum.
My home office in England.
My brother’s self-assurance at having a catering career.
A pint of Guinness at the Aer Lingus bar in Dublin Airport.
A hug from a friend.
A healing New York.
But more so this past week – like the weight of bricks on my chest. I miss the laughter, the stories, and the beautiful faces from my afternoons at The Mill. Oh, and Star Wars on the telly. And the improvised menu. And the hot sauce. And the synchronised shots. And the chalkboard menu. And the person seated to my left. And the person seated to my right.
I’m lucky, for sure. Grateful beyond. But today? Today I miss.