A winter holiday, IV

And after a week they thought they knew. Barely a word had been written for despite what she had imagined sitting in front of her laptop was not really what the girl wanted. What she wanted was to sit in the dark with her husband. To read the paper by torchlight, to join in with her new relatives while they gathered and chopped wood, to play with her rabbits in the garden, to get wet, get muddy, to talk to her boy about the things she had read, to discuss their dreams and the lives they wanted to live. To realise that the pace at which she had been living had been bad for her. To realise that doing things constantly was not healthy, that stopping and sitting and doing nothing but reading the paper was good for her, good for her soul. That although she thought she couldn't live without the constant hum of the city on her doorstep she was wrong, that it wasn't everything that she thought it was. And perhaps most importantly of all she discovered that peeing in a bucket in the woods, by the light of the full moon, while stargazing and feeling the gentle breeze on her bare behind was one of the most perverse pleasures she had ever experienced. She tried not to worry about what this said about her.

Barely a picture was taken because when out in the beautiful wide world the weight of her camera pulled her down and tethered her to the viewfinder when what she wanted to look at was her husband, what she wanted to do was let her thoughts and her excitement soar from her to him and to be ready to catch them when they bounced back again, a slightly different shape but in essence the still the same...