Just to share the beauty of nature in its stages of new growth, peak of life and the aging process. How it coexists naturally to bring beauty and depth to our surroundings. Much the same way that families welcome their young, nurture their youth and cherish their elders – all coming together naturally and beautifully to ensure continuity of life.
About 5 years ago I wrote a whimsical blog on Maps. At that time maps were synonymous with adventure, excitement and wonder for me.
They represented places I’d lived, places I had explored when I had not a care in the world, places I had visited with my boys opening their eyes to everything exciting and new – different cultures and languages – giving them a taste of what this wonderful world has to offer. So many memories of good times, with family and friends. So much to look forward to in the years to come. A bucket list that was getting longer and longer.
Fast forward to today and this Map has turned into a scary sight. Many borders closed to non-nationals. People isolated in their own countries fearful of venturing outside of their bubble. Instead of awe and excitement, it represents fear and trepidation. It is filled with numbers and statistics and I wait ever so patiently to be reunited with my family. To meet my grandchildren for the first time. To let them know that Grandma is more than just a funny face on the other side of the IPad. That you can hug her and kiss her in person. That all your screen kisses will one day be accompanied by the biggest warmest hug ever. That there’s more to your Grandma than clapping hands or reading books. That together we can explore this world and build memories that will last a lifetime.
That light at the end of the tunnel is ever so faint. Yet I keep it in my sight, knowing that one day it will be the brightest light in my universe.
For the past year and a half, you’ve been constantly on my mind. Covid-19 has sent the world in a tailspin, and as much as I miss you and mummy terribly, I’m forever grateful that you’ve been spared this ‘inconvenience’, and selfishly, that we have not had the added worry of keeping you guys safe. It would have been a lonely existence for you both, one which, after such a long and happy life, seeing your children and grandchildren almost daily, would have possibly left you bereft of what was most important to you – family.
We’ve managed well, though – and keep in touch with each other often. Meeting up when we can for quick get togethers at each other’s homes, dropping by to share excess fruit (Julie mangoes, Mummy’s favourite), Zabocas (the boys are still competing as to whose is the best), homemade bread (your eldest has become quite the baker), but most importantly, keeping our family bond strong.
You’ve left us with a legacy so ingrained that in this time of forced isolation, our family connections have pulled us through and we thank you for this.
And oh the family keeps on growing – with some scattered across the globe, we still remain in touch thanks to the technology which baffled you so much towards the end. Your great grandkids keep us busy and entertained. Some we have not yet met due to Covid, and some on the way. And they all look ‘just like you’ – if not physically, certainly in their hearts which are full of love of life and family.
You would be proud, as are we.
Forever and always……
We all take this time of year to reflect. Reflect on what we have done, could have done, should have done. What we will do differently in the New Year to achieve different results – to become the person we always wanted to be and make promises to be better in every way in the New Year. This Year will be the best year of our lives.
I’ve stopped doing that – quite some time ago. I’ve learned that making New Year’s resolutions are filled with drunken hopes of ideals that, for the most part, never happen. Filled with wishes that never come true. Filled with high expectations that I can never live up to.
Now, I simply thank God. Thank Him for my blessings. And I have very many. I thank Him for my husband of thirty-something years who still manages to surprise and delight me in the simplest of ways, my children who continue to burst my heart with pride, my daughters-in-law who share my passion for life, and now my grandson, who has opened my heart to a different kind of love and adoration that I never knew existed.
I thank Him for my siblings who always have my back, no matter what. I thank him for my friends who always show up, without expectations. I thank Him for my health, my passion to carry on, my love of life.
And with this gratitude I embrace the New Year knowing that I can and will survive, endure, enjoy whatever life has to offer.
May your New Year be filled with an abundance of blessings.
And so the journey begins… One flight down, 3 more to go, to meet my grandson.
You must be dying to hug him and kiss him. How can you be so calm? How come you’ve waited so long. Why didn’t you go for his birth?
You see my two eldest sons now live in a land far far away from our home. I often joke that they couldn’t have run further away from me if they wanted. But it is what it is, and as a family we try not to make the distance an issue. And to a large extent, we’ve succeeded. At this point in time though, the distance has created a huge hole in my heart. And with each flight today, the hole will close bit by bit.
Until then, I will read, watch movies, sleep, eat, toss and turn. All the while wondering how it will feel to touch his little toes, to hold his little hand, to caress his little face, to hug him, kiss him and let him know, beyond the shadow of a doubt that his Grandma loves him to the moon and back.
My eldest brother, as is usual, was one of the first this morning to congratulate me on yet another year of marriage. He also took the opportunity to remind me that Jesus Christ lived for 33 years and that during his short life he had performed just as many miracles, suggesting at the same time that I should expect an Amethyst stone from my husband on this occasion. My sister was quick to chime in noting that that would indeed be a miracle.
It got me to thinking though as to whether or not my life had been filled with as many miracles, if any at all. I guess the mere fact that my husband is still alive after so many years of marriage could be considered some type of miracle. My three sons would probably attest that they are living miracles considering the many occasions I threatened to tie them up in a tree and leave them there for good. If my dogs could talk, they too would thank their lucky stars that their many digging episodes in my garden didn’t end more tragically.
I sound like a mad lady, and yes, at times I may have acted like one. But reminiscing on my married life I can confirm that I have witnessed many miracles. Not those of the like of Jesus Christ maybe – there are many a time, though, that I would certainly have liked to have been able to change water into wine – but, there have been small ones which make life full and worth the while.
– The miracle of giving life – holding your treasures against your body for the first time, welcoming them into your world.
– The miracle of family – skipping bravely through life with the confidence that someone has got your back
– The miracle of unconditional love – knowing that when you mess up, because inevitably you do, there’s that one person who will help you pick up the pieces and move on
Two of my sons are soon to embark on this wonderful journey of marriage. And I’m hoping that their life, too, will be filled with many many miracles.
What better way to spend your Sunday afternoon than following your son in his search for that perfect sunset. With the rain beating on the road as you climb the mountain, you anxiously anticipate the clarity and beauty of the setting sun as the rain dissipates. You hope for clouds as they always add interest and mystery. You look forward to the serenity of the view and the peace and quiet that such beauty brings. You capture the changes in the sky as the sun sinks ever so slowly into the depths of the horizon. And you very secretly thank God for such precious moments.
I remember your smile, with that dimple that I longed to have so much. I remember your love that you gave selflessly, willingly and to everyone you met. I remember your devotion to your one and only love. I remember your quiet reserve, your patience, your support.
I remember the close relationship you had with your siblings. The fun times and the laughter you shared with them, as we looked on as children, marveling in your joy of living – wishing that we too would one day be as happy as your were. I remember you dancing with your infamous finger pointing to the sky.
I remember you teaching me to sew, encouraging me as I made mistakes with your clever quip – “every mistake is a fashion”. I remember how you picked up for me when the older ones took advantage of my devotion to them (well only one sibling really). I remember your behind-the-scenes love.
I remember the sparkle in your eyes when I brought my boys to visit you. They remember your caring, your warmth. They remember always wanting to visit you, they remember the custard you always made for them as a treat. They remember your birthday cake, your soupees. They remember Christmas mornings.
Just to let you know that, on this particular day, we all remember…
When you think of a street or road, what’s the first name that comes to your mind? Is it that place with your favourite shops / bars / connection points? Is it that place where you met your first love, or had the most interesting encounter in your lifetime? Or is it that place which conjures up your fondest memories?
For me it’s the place where I grew up. Long Circular Road is that place for me. It’s where I played with friends, got teased by my older brothers and sister, climbed trees picking fruit or just to get away from my pesty older siblings. It’s where I played game after game of cricket with my older brother. It’s where I had my 16th birthday party and kissed a boy for the first time. It’s where I courted my husband.
It’s where I learned the true meaning of family and friends, winning and losing. It’s where I learned about life and love.
When you think of a street or road, where do you go?
Home is where the heart is….
I asked a couple of friends to give me their ‘one word’ synonymous with home and I was able to build the following simple list :-
For me home is all of the above and more. Whenever I’m with family, I’m home. Whenever I’m in my garden, I’m home. Whenever I’m with friends, I’m home. Sometimes when I’m by myself, I’m home. When I watch the sun set, I’m home. It doesn’t have to be a place and it’s certainly not a thing. It’s that feeling you get when you heart is quiet, full and at peace when you know you are home.
Where is home for you…