Rain or shine: on daughters, dance, and the spaces we keep safe
It’s been a hectic few weeks: full of milestones and mascara, dresses and disbelief. Lucy’s finally finished school, A levels are now a distant memory, and we’ve had prom and the school leavers’ ceremony… all of it arriving faster than I expected. There’s been pride, of course, but also a quiet ache. A sense that something is shifting.
Because it is.
We wait. Not just for results, but for the subtle unravelling of childhood and the quiet shaping of what comes next.
A season of change
I’ve watched her work steadily for 14 year. Never noisily, never looking for applause, just showing up day after day with grit and grace. That quiet determination is something I deeply admire. It’s something I recognise too. In her, I see the same fire that has carried me through the seasons of my own life.
As I find myself looking outward - towards the world, towards places she’s yet to explore - I’m reminded that our journeys can stretch far and wide, but the spaces we hold for one another remain. However far we go, however grown our children become, it matters that they know; you always have a place to return to.
That’s what I hope Mettle & Grace offers women too. A space that says: come as you are, start where you are, this is yours.
Moving together, come rain or shine
Also this weekend, Kenilworth Carnival returns. Rain or shine, it draws us out. Families lining pavements, children dancing in sequins and face paint, generations waving from floats. It’s an event that has always meant something to me. Not because it’s grand, but because it brings people together. I’ve walked and danced in it as an adult, alongside Lucy and her dance school, year after year. It’s stitched into our story.
It reminds me that movement isn’t always a solo act. Sometimes it’s shared. Sometimes it’s joyful. Sometimes, it’s simply a way to keep going—one foot in front of the other, even when the skies are grey. And in that, movement becomes more than physical - it becomes a quiet resilience. A return to self. A reminder that strength doesn’t always roar; sometimes it simply continues.
To all the mothers watching their daughters take flight, and all the daughters carrying a little of their mothers with them - I see you.
And whether you’re moving forward or circling back, know this: Mettle & Grace is here. A place to come home to, rain or shine.
