the tea house

The smell of the lavender bush in my garden mingled with my mother's perfume.
The cool summer breeze, dancing on my skin.
Gentle hands working through my tangled hair.
Being carried by strong arms after falling asleep on a long journey. 
The sound of out of an out of tune violin played by an 8 year old.
The hours spent snuggled up to my sister watching old films.
Pillow fights that lasted until all that was left was feathers and depleted pillow cases. 
The sound of laughter ringing through the house, filling each crevice.
Squeals at 6AM, because it's Christmas day and it's allowed.
The fractured feel of branches and the instability of my balance as I climb trees and wonder how I will get down.
My Dad's smile travelling to his eyes and resting there for a while. 
Being tucked into bed every night, with a kiss and a whispered 'I love you.'

The days of making dens, running, falling, laughing, seeking. 
The days in which I met my saviour, grew to love him and to know him.

And now I am sitting, looking into his eyes as he takes my hand and leads me on.