You can lift a weight. Something can be up-lifting.

Today, Pádraig decided to do a bit of lifting himself: he first lifted one arm, then the other. He’s getting really good at it.

And in a strange way, I believe the ‘lifting’ has got to do with the ‘standing’. Standing up in his magic bed brings back sensations he probably had almost forgotten about. Sensations that lead to movements. To alertness.

After many months, tonight I’m back in Dublin, having travelled half a day, having been at half a dozen of meetings, getting up tomorrow morning before the crack of yawn, traveling to the west. Days are always flying here. And on the next day it’ll be back on the red eye to Hamburg.

Whatever it is, this here is home. And it’s lifting me. Up.