Today I've been for my usual Friday walk taking in the National Trust café up top. Except of course it isn't a usual Friday.
Today is Armistice day, and although the café was full, it wasn't so busy that everyone didn't stop and share 11am.
We all managed to find a moment of stillness. Peaceful quiet, give or take a little one's mutterings, which somehow made it feel all the more poignant.
Peaceful quiet? When guns and bombs compose the rhythm of the soundtrack, and blood shed, tears cried, life lost; the score.
My peaceful quiet moved from loss to futility to hope. We all know that even though the war dead are glorious, war itself is certainly not.
Not a usual Friday then. November the 11th caught me unaware. I didn't expect to pause and remember those gone before, those leaving now, and those preparing to fall, when I set off on such a sunny morning. Nor for that matter, did I expect to share the moment with an entire café of strangers.
It was moving.
And more than death, it reminded me of life.
This post also appeared here