My dad was happy, the cook Hannah was happy, the other carers, the other residents, my family seeing this on Facebook (it’s the only way at the moment), friends, acquaintances of the home…the wave of happiness spread exponentially!

It all started with one person choosing to listen to another, truly listening, with heart. They had empathy, and understood the potential magic moment and everlasting memory that they could help make happen. And they chose to do it.

I’m sure this isn’t written into the care plan, or the home’s policies, I’m sure there isn’t a column on a spreadsheet or a dashboard for this. I am sure that it cost a few more £’s than a basic Victoria sponge cake, and took more time, but the impact of this simple act of kindness is truly immeasurable, and completely invaluable.

From the carers to the cook to the home manager, these people are all aligned and working with true purpose. Hannah the cook was able to make this moment happen – that speaks volumes for her character, but also her employer. This should be captured somewhere! Everyone felt the feels, along with the happy end-user (my dad in this instance), but can we effectively capture feels, work out strategies, implement plans, request budget? I think we can.

Employee experience is so important for me, and with my research and marketing skills I hope that one day I can work towards helping get employee experience on the dashboard. For Ashworth Grange, the metric on the CQC (Care Quality Commission) dashboard would be a huge stack of lovehearts, as is evident on Facebook.

My dad dad lives in a care home because he has behavioural variant frontotemporal dementia (BvFTD).

“Oh yeah, can you remember when…?”

My 6yr old was making memories for himself the other morning. In terms of making them up. He was recalling an event that he was at when he was very little, and asleep for half of it, but one that the rest of the family often talk about. Diggerland! There are photos, videos, even a medal, but there certainly wasn’t any jumping in muddy puddles with his dadda. But as the story was relayed, dadda simply said ‘yes’.

On my morning run shortly after the fake-recount, I didn’t press play on my running app and therefore didn’t record my stellar effort. Argh, it was a good one too, my fastest one for ages, I was flying, I so wish I’d captured it to check the pace. But then, I remembered the muddy puddles, and I was glad that I hadn’t.

What if the data said different? I’d be gutted. So I smiled and just went with how I felt. I flew.

Feeling part of a family story was important to my son, and so he created his own chapter, got grown-up confirmation, and will forever think it happened. And that’s ok if it helps him feel part of things.

When I was probably his age, I must’ve made a fake-memory of someone telling me that my godmother’s mum was a piano teacher and taught Julie Andrews how to sing. When I watched The Sound of Music or Mary Poppins I would stare at her intently, and imagine her standing next to a piano, I felt a bit closer. Untrue. I think I was about 35yrs old when I found that out!

Sitting here now watching the waves crash, seeing stripes in the sea (who knew?), I’m taking a mental snapshot. When I feel the need to escape from everyday life/work, I replay nature’s moments that I’ve seen – the sounds, the wind, the warmth, the chill, the shadows, the smells…and on a Tuesday at 4pm next week as I imagine this beach just like this, it might not be true…but it will be to me.

Love Stripes and Trees xxx

Going backwards is against everything I try hard to achieve – self development, knowledge, growth, discovery, experience… but I went back.

I went back to take this photo of the trees. To me it looks like one is trying to nuzzle into the other one, trying to get closer, be friends. But then they had a disagreement and it slowly turned away. The image stuck with me for months in my mind, so I went back and now it is captured, forever held, never lost.

This week a close friend sent me a flashback photo from the late nineties. It was a digital photo of a physical photo, making the moment seem more intense. We looked young, happy, arms around each other’s shoulders. Friendship captured, never lost. But like many others these days, our friendship is now almost wholly digital – we have seen each other only twice in 16yrs. Distance hasn’t changed much about our connection, I know that we’d still smile and laugh as hard if we met today, it’s just that I feel a bit lost, unsure which way to lean. If I was a tree I think I’d be quite twisted.

I’m so grateful for the life I have, for the people I share it with (physically or digitally), for the things I have achieved, for the dreams yet to be realised. But I must admit, I often have the sense that something is missing.

The photo that my friend sent was a perfectly timed reminder that the missing thing is me. A part of me. On the outside I have obviously changed, I have greys and more squishy parts, and on the inside I have emotionally evolved, as I should have in maturity and motherhood, but the core of me is me. And it’s not twisted, it’s just been a little quiet as I have been busy with other people for several years. The photo showed me what I am capable of, with good people around me, and I wanted to go back and find the missing part of me. My oomph.

So on the weekend I decided to run to the tunes that were always my running tunes. It wasn’t hard to make a playlist, these songs imprinted heavily in my muscle memory. Some tunes made me feel free and young, I felt strong and invincible; and others reminded me that I had once run a half marathon, even though I was struggling with a third of that distance today…and I remembered that the person in the photo was unable to jog longer than 10mins. This mishmash of memories made me realise how we really can choose what to do, that we can make things happen. It’s within us. Our own oomph.

The lyrics I heard as I hit my running goal for the day were:

“So now you finally know, That you control where you go, You can steer” – thanks Missy Higgins.

I now know. I am in control. I can steer.

I went back, and now I’m coming back. I’m not lost.

Love Stripes & Trees xxx