“Sometimes you will never know the value of a moment, until it becomes a memory.” ~ Dr. Seuss.
I think it might be Wednesday today, Wordless Wednesday. And today, I don’t feel like being completely wordless, but I won’t say too much.
Being Wednesday means that tomorrow must be Thursday…the last day of 2015. It would be rather remiss of me to declare that a lot has happened in my world during this year. Words seem insignificant, and could never describe the soaring highs and the heart breaking lows my family have seen during this year. It’s a year that will be remembered, forever. And as the year nears its end, I am battling daily with feelings of melancholy….
The feelings will pass, I know, once the new year begins. I have plans for next year, but will share more of those later. For now, I’m thinking only of now, valuing these last moments of a memorable year, a year in which so many memories have been made.
My youngest son turns eighteen today, and even though he knows that I blog, calling the friends I have made here my “Fairy Friends”, I doubt that he would ever think to read what I have said. Today though, I need to mark the day my youngest child becomes a man. Really? Is it actually today that he reaches maturity? No, I think not. A date on a calendar could never in a million years have prepared my boy for his initiation into manhood, when his fiancé gave birth to their first child, Samuel, a tiny little bundle who was born sleeping.
The words in my heart need to be constructed here today, and sent out into The Universe, along with a smattering of photographic memories of my son, and you, my “Fairy Friends”, my wonderful small group of people who are so very dear to me, even though we have never met, can share in the day too. The day my son becomes “legal” ~ can buy lottery tickets, and cigarettes and alcohol, play poker machines, vote, borrow money, get a tattoo….these things are taboo to an under eighteen year old, kept away from them for their own protection, perhaps? To protect them from what? Nothing can protect us from living a life, from feeling love and heartbreak. Age cannot dictate a personality, nor enable kindness, compassion, or empathy, all of which Adam has been blessed with, so today, I wish to honour my son for the human being he is.
Just because I love him.
Dear Adam,
When I saw your face this morning it felt no different than any other morning, or any other birthday for that matter, when I have greeted you and wished you happiness for your special day. Legally, from now on, you no longer need your father and I, but knowing you as I do, I know that you already understand that we will always be here for you anyway.
You’ll always be my baby, in more ways than one, you are my child, and my last born baby, and my heart will continue to travel along with you throughout your entire life, no matter where you are, just as it has done for the past eighteen years.
Recently, I have been complimented, more than once, on raising such a wonderful son, a son I can be proud of, and although I have done my best to instill in you a decent set of moral values, have taught you right from wrong, and encouraged you to seek anything which your heart desires, I cannot accept full responsibility for the person you have become. Every person is born with their own unique personality, and Adam, I really scored it lucky on the day you were born.
My beautiful baby boy with the huge blue eyes, you were so contented, barely ever cried, adored your family, loved music and called all of your favourite things “Narna”. And oh, the looks I would be given when out shopping, as I pushed along a stroller containing a one year old who could whistle! You were always on for a chat too, joining in with your baby babble-talk, laughing on cue during conversations, and always waving the longest goodbyes.
Your school teachers thought you quite remarkable too, when you arrived at school being able to tie your own shoe laces, and you could even count to one-thousand. I remember with great fondness the friends you made when young, some at school, some through sporting activities, many of whom you have remained friends with to this day.
My little football player, the black-belt karate kid, cricket playing wizard and piano player extraordinaire, how I have smiled throughout the past eighteen years, admiring your talents.
And then there’s the compassionate Adam, the young boy who always stood by and helped the under-dog, those with disabilities, and kids who were bullied at school. No one dared mess with you, did they my boy? You never shied away from a fight, not when it was something you believed in.
At high school, you discovered girls, and oh my goodness, what a long string of “girl friends” there were too! I gave up trying to show interest after a while, there were too many to remember, and I always knew that when someone special came along, you would let me know.
And you did. What was it that you saw in Mary that made her stand out from the rest? I believe that you and Mary are kindred spirits. With Mary, you really did recognise your “other half”, didn’t you, the person you knew that you were destined to stay with forever.
Last year, as you and Mary whispered together nearby, I would occasionally pick up words dropped along the way, hear your plans for when you were married, when you had children, when you would always be together, so earlier this year, when you knew about the baby and told me that the three of you were to all have the same sir name, I knew this to be your dream.
Dreams do come true, my boy, perhaps not always at the time you expect them to, but when you and Mary are married in less than two weeks time, little Samuel will be watching over his mummy and daddy as the three of you become as one. Your beautiful Mary is a huge part of your dreams, Adam, and Samuel will never be forgotten. His little brothers and sisters will be here before you know it, so don’t fret. You know your heart and you know Mary’s heart, separate to yours physically, yet one heart through love.
Just so’s you know, the video of a nine or ten year old Adam, which we had promised to show at either your eighteenth or twenty-first birthday, is being safely kept for your twenty-first birthday bash. With a wedding coming up in less than two weeks, we think we will save that one for now. What a laugh your children will get when they see their daddy dancing a strip-tease when he was just a little boy!
Your love, your gentleness, your strength, sense of humour and compassion, they will always see you through. I am so proud of you, did I already tell you that a thousand times over? I think I did, but just in case you missed it, always remember Adam, I am, and always will be, your biggest fan, devoted to you, here to support you throughout the hard times in life and to treasure the happiness that finds you also.
Happy Birthday Adam ~ I love you, always. ~~ Mum. x
A continuing joy to my every day is the visit from my feathered friends.
Deja vu closely followed the thought, “It doesn’t seem that long ago since I last decorated the house for Christmas”. I thought the exactly same thing, whilst decorating the house during December 2013. Where has the year gone?
In May, this tree flowered profusely, to the delight of both myself, and the Rainbow Lorikeets.
And now, it’s the last day of 2014, and as I ponder whether 2014 has been either a good year or bad, I realise that, for me, it has been a year of learning. Everything has happened for a reason. And I haven’t resisted the changes that have occurred, realising that I am in the right place, at the right time, and everything happens just as it should, when it is ready to happen. The way it is meant to be.
I love taking photos in the rain, the moody light adds so much warmth to the photos.
I re-read my first post of this year, remembering, as I have continually remembered throughout 2014, my chosen word for this year ~ “Authentic”.
I have planted a lot of old-fashioned hydrangeas in the garden this year.
We are old friends now, this word and I. At the beginning of the year, I felt their presence constantly. We had to get to know each other; we were virtual strangers, passing each other throughout my life thus far like ships in the night.
Cockatoos visited my garden on the morning of my birthday in May, when my dear friend, Keith, was visiting Australia and staying with me and my family for a few days.
Oh how I had wished to jump on board that ship! My authentically beautiful friend must have known the feelings and longings of my heart, as this year, they did not give up on the hopeless cause of this mere human, filled with faults and uncertainties. No, this year, when the ship of authenticity drew up beside me, and threw out a life-boat, with just a molecule of trepidation, I dragged myself into the calming warmth of their being. And how quickly we noticed the way we could co-exist, half way between my physical life and the true soul of my inner being.
I have decided that Allamandas are the single most photogenic flowers in my garden.
In contemplating a new word for 2015, I feel myself continually pulled toward my Authentic self, not wishing to leave this relatively new friend behind, as I venture into another year on earth. And whilst I know that my Authenticity will continue into tomorrow, and all the other tomorrow’s that in my life I will enjoy, next year will see a progression of my new-found contentment. What that word will be, as yet, I do not know. My word is still searching for me. Authenticity is screening every word that crosses my path, so when my word arrives, I can feel assured that the right extension of this year has found me.
When I added a hanging basket to the back veranda, a Noisy Minor thought the basket insert would be just the thing to add comfort to her nest.
As I cast my mind back over this year, the day before it changes its status to “last year”, my first thoughts are of Tess. Her gentle canine soul has warmed my heart during so many moments this year. I still feel the sting of tears when I remember her physical presence is gone, even though my Black Velvet girl sits beside me as I remember her love and loyalty.
My Begonia sits in a pot on the front veranda, and amazes me every year, as I watch the brown soil shoot new green growth into the world…and further, produce the most brilliant flowers!
I know with every ounce of love in my heart that when my next fury friend is ready to find me, she will. But she isn’t ready to come to me yet, and I believe there is a reason why this is so. This year, in September, my son Adam brought home his girl, Forrest, and whilst I love this baby girl dearly, I know she is not for me. She is a loan-puppy, just the same as Porter and Bella, who moved back home with their “parents” in August. They will be leaving again when their new home is built, and the “family of five”, which includes the gorgeous Sammy cat, will settle into their own little spot of Paradise.
Tess has her own garden now, in a shady area beside the pool. I planted a Fuchsia in Tess’s Garden a few months ago, hoping it would be happy there, and as you can see, it is.
A part of my Authentic year has kept me away from blogging. My Muse completely disappeared for a while there, although for the first time, I have consistently kept a daily diary, the old-fashioned, hand-written kind, recording events of the day, both mundane and significant. A personal record of my year, which I will continue into 2015.
Father & Son ~ The mottled Magpie is one of three baby birds I had the pleasure of hand feeding during this year.
My Muse has pulled up the most comfortable chair right now, and is making themselves feel right at home on my right shoulder, (Tess is to my left,) sharing the words and feelings that have often escaped me during this year. Will they remain? Will 2015 be The Year of The Muse? Only time will tell.
During May, I helped my son, Ben, renovate his investment unit. The Tweed River runs behind the block of units where I found a peaceful and welcome oasis from the chores.
Dear friends, as I feel my way into a New Year, I will share a small verse that I discovered the other day. The words struck a chord of love for me, as in spending the last year being true to myself, my feelings, my thoughts and desires, I have also learned to accept the flaws in myself, as well as in others. Mostly in others. Authenticity has invited acceptance into my world, acceptance of both people and events. Furthermore, a knowing that I create my own happiness, my own contentment, my own world. And so do you.
Another new plant in Tess’s Garden, a sweetly fragranced Gardenia.
This is ME…. I am not perfect I live on the planet Earth where humans live Humans are not perfect Never have been, Never will be So I don’t always wear the right clothes I don’t always use the right shoes My memory sometimes fails me I don’t look like a fashion model I don’t cook like a French chef I don’t always do what people expect of me I am human, I am IMPERFECT But there is no one else like me in this whole wide world I am unique, I am a MIRACLE I am what I am Nothing more, Nothing less So therefore; Love me for what I am Not for what you want me to be! ~Yvve Berglund~
Our pets live their lives true to Authenticity ~ we can learn so much from them, including acceptance. 🙂
You may recall a post I wrote in September of last year. It’s an easy story to remember if you visited around that time, as I showed you photos of a pair of adult kangaroos, hopping around behind the bars of the entry to the disused Trial Bay Gaol, along with their joey.
It might be an idea to take a moment to look back at these beautiful animals, to either jog your memory, or take a first look, so here’s the link ~
Can you spot the kangaroos?
If you look very carefully at the photo above, up towards the building on the right hand side patch of grass, you will see how I first saw this adorable family. They eyed me for a moment or two before approaching, although little joey wasn’t too keen on coming face to face with a fur-less, two-legged creature holding a black box that made clicking sounds, and quickly scurried into its mama’s pouch! I did manage to take a few photos of him though, before he disappeared into her pouch, head first!
Way back, in the days of the open gaol.
Work began on the building of the gaol in 1876, although it wasn’t completed until 1886, due to “difficulties in working the hard stone, inconsistent funding and contractual problems”. A southern wing was added to the gaol in 1900, yet three years later the building was closed.
Barred, yet beautiful.
I prefer to see the gaol as a lovely, historic building. Even though I realise there is a need for prisons, as not all folk in society deserve to be integrated in our day to day life due to their own bad judgement in their actions, it bothers me to think of the way men were treated in the early days of Australia. Many men, and women as well, were judged as criminals for the slightest misdemeanor. I can imagine the number of tormented souls who continue to walk the halls of this ruin. It’s not a part of history that Australia should be proud of. But I suppose all countries have parts of their history that they wish to be not spoken of.
What a view!
In an article I read, Trial Bay Gaol is described as “an experiment with humane prison reform”, so I would take that as a positive sign that the powers that be of the time were questioning the old ways of treating prisoners. On the other hand though, the gaol only remained in use for twenty-six years ~ perhaps the experiment wasn’t a success!
The view from the building is amazing though, looking out across the ocean from the top of a hill, from what is now regarded as a “Heritage Listed Building”.
Trial Bay Gaol is located at South West Rocks, and while I was visiting the area with my son Adam last year, he guided the way to a lighthouse there that he knew of, telling me that I would love taking photos of the area. He wasn’t wrong. And I will show you those photos next time. 🙂
It’s always as the weather cools down that I think about my chair, remembering how it noticed me, wandering around the furniture section of a large department store, waiting for me patiently, knowing that it would only be a matter of time until I swooped upon it and declared my undying love for its fabric, colour, style and form.
But the story of the love for my chair didn’t begin that day; it goes back many, many years.
The month was May, I had just become an auntie for the second time and I had also just celebrated my ninth birthday. The only home I remembered living in during my few short years on this earth had been sold, a brand new house was in the process of being built. I was soon to start attending a new school.
So many changes were taking place, changes that my heart resisted, yet changes I had absolutely no control over. I simply had to put all of my faith into my parents, believing that their decision to make so many changes in my life would turn out for the best, that I would be happy at my new school, and living in my new home.
Meanwhile, as we awaited the building of our new home, we would be living at a fully furnished rental property, not far from the home we had just left, and I continued to go to my old school.
From the very first moment that I walked through the front gate of the rental property, I fell in love with that home. The house was old, the front garden was filled with flowers, and even the front door welcomed me.
On the other side of the most inviting front door I had ever had the pleasure of walking through was the most heart-warming room I had ever entered, with a fireplace in one corner, lace curtains at the windows and a solid three-piece lounge suite surrounding the fireplace.
I felt blissfully happy in this room! At night, while the burning wood crackled away in the fireplace, warming the room as it warmed my heart, my cat would be curled up asleep on the mat in front of the fireplace and I would curl up in one of the single-seater lounge chairs, legs curled up beside me, rug over my knees, reading my “Famous Five” and “Secret Seven” mystery stories, or working on my latest craft project, which always involved knitting something.
Oh how I wished I could take that lounge suite with us when we had to leave this wonderful old home! But of course, I couldn’t, it didn’t belong to me, (besides which, my mother detested that “horrible old furniture”!) But this chair comforted me, when my whole world was changing.
Throughout my entire adult life, when shopping for any lounge room furniture, my memory would travel back in time to my old lounge chair as I tried to find it again.
In the late 1980’s I did come close to recreating my ideal “sofa situation”, when a rose covered sofa bed discovered me. Of course, I took it home, how could I not? But it just wasn’t quite my favourite sofa, reincarnate. I’ve since had the sofa recovered and it remains a favourite.
Not quite the chair I was searching for, but almost.
In my mind, my decision had already been made, I simply wouldn’t purchase another lounge chair ever again, until my chair-of-perfection, the reincarnation of my old childhood favourite chair, found me, until I found it again.
On the day that my chair did find me however, it had been promised to another, but regardless, my heart was brimming with joy over knowing it existed! Immediately upon sitting in my chair, which wasn’t mine, in the large department store that day, I spoke to the sales woman and wouldn’t you know it, as I told her of my life-long search for this chair, how I imagined sitting my coffee cup on the chair’s wide arm, legs curled up beside me, reading my book or working on my latest knitting project, the sales women told me how she would sit in this chair herself whenever the opportunity to do so arose. During quiet moments throughout her work day, when she had any paperwork to complete, it was this very chair that she chose to relax in.
Just the place for a coffee cup.
She invited me to take off my shoes and curl my legs up beside me, just to try out the total “feel” of the chair and I told her that I simply could not do that, as this chair belonged to another and I couldn’t soil their new chair by sitting in it that way.
You may be thinking by now that I could have easily just ordered one of these chairs, seeing as I loved it so much, and you would be right in assuming this could be done, however….the cost of my chair was the equivalent to a king’s ransom! And being a display chair, the chair already promised to another was being sold at a seventy-five percent discount!
I left the store that day, telling the sales woman, who now felt like an old friend, that I hoped the chair’s new owners enjoyed many happy years with their new purchase, and I would save up to buy one of my own.
The next morning, it occurred to me that perhaps another chair could be located in another store, at the same heavily discounted price, so I phoned the store and asked to speak to the sales woman from the day before, knowing she would remember me. She wasn’t there.
I told the woman on the other end of the telephone how I longed for that chair, yet couldn’t justify paying the full price, no matter how much I longed for it. She immediately recognised me from having spoken to the other sales lady the day before, and agreed that she would phone around to other stores during the day, in search of another chair. I left my name and phone number with her and we said goodbye.
Within less than an hour, she had phoned me. She has some news for me. She hadn’t had the opportunity to phone any other stores as yet, however she had received a phone call, and from those who my chair was promised to ~ they had decided not to take it!
My heart leapt and I did a happy-dance around my room, my chair really was mine, it wanted me as much as I wanted it!! I could collect my chair that day (no, said I, delivery won’t be necessary, my husband owns a ute, he will collect it immediately!) and not only that, that same day, a matching chair was located in another store and I would receive it within a few days also!
All the necessities, close at hand.
The warmth of spirit that came to me through my chair that day remains to this day. Every member of my family has taken their turn in trying to “steal” my chair from me, but I will not allow it! It is only on days that someone is feeling sad or unwell, that I will share my chair with them, knowing the comfort that it brings. Even my cats love my chair and I am sure that they too feel the comforting aura of this special piece of furniture.
The weather is cooling down now, it is autumn, the same season as it was more-years-than-I-care-to-remember ago, and I spend my nights again curled up in my chair, blanket over my knees, coffee on the arm of the chair, books and knitting project at hand, enjoying the chair whose spirit finally found my own.
Two years ago I went back to look at the old home, where I had found my chair. It isn’t how I remember it now, having been modernised over the years and the old front gate is gone, but the legacy of so many aspects of this home live on today in my home.
In My World 