It is summer in New Zealand now and looking out on the clear blue sky quilted with tufts of cotton wool clouds; you could be forgiven for thinking nothing has changed. Every morning the sun rises slowly in the east, reaching it peak around midday, before sinking to settle behind the hills to the west.
The same stupid dog barks restlessly when its owner is away; and the kids at play in the park by the sea, seem as happy and carefree today, as they are every other day.
But today is different.
On this day our world has split to shed its old skin, leaving tender new flesh, soft and vulnerable, beneath. At first the change is almost imperceptible, like distant music drifting from the bonfire along the beach, caught in the eddies and flows of the warm evening wind. But once you have hold of it, you can tease the change out, unravelling it like a ball of wool let down long flights of stairs.
Now we have the change, we can peel more and more of the old husks from this day, and the change we thought could never happen, stares boldly back at us, surrounded by the ashes of the way things were.
This change does not descend from the sky, flanked by horseman, raining fire and brimstone from a sword made of lightning; but instead creeps quietly up to us and slips silently into our ear.
It begins as a glimmer of excitement and hope and a promise of love with acceptance whenever we need. As the change grows stronger, it will fill every part of us, nourishing and refreshing and soothing our pain.
From this day to our last day, the change will support us: reassuring us through the nasty storms thrown up by the maelstrom of life; and ensuring we take the time to reflect on the long afternoons of contentment, surrounded by the people we love.
This change will save us from the frightening futures we have created for ourselves; and we can begin this process and accept this future right now.
You just need to accept the inevitable truth, this change is you.