This begins with an apology that this blog will be full of woes. I will try and finish with hope. To be focussed and write about just one thing seems hard at the moment. So many responsibilities and events pull me from side to side, so much that I lurch at angles that surely are unsafe. I know I should take them one at a time.
My mum is getting frailer at 84 years and has asked for help. She lives over 2 hours drive away and most of my siblings live closer. As the eldest child it is up to me to organise assistance and get some commitments from the family. The responses will vary so before I even get them I wonder how I will manage this.
My daughter is 14 and full of hormones. She doesn’t like her teachers this year, should I talk to them I wonder. Her subjects are boring and nothing much is right with school unless it is one of the days when she comes home chatty and happy and then it is all good and what are you on about Mum.
Her sports, friends, homework and shopping commitments all seem to involve me. In our household there are appointments for doctors, physiotherapist, podiatrist, vet, school. A merry-go-round of times and dates leave me little mental space to think and precious little time to achieve anything else.
My husband and I argue and don’t really make up before he leaves on an 8 hour round trip to the funeral of his aunt.
Yesterday a baby bird flew into the lounge window and died. When I went out to retrieve it, one of the parents was standing next to it willing it to get up and fly off.
Ordinary people were killed yesterday in London as a madman caused havoc. A thousand asylum seekers may have drowned on a boat. I put my name on a petition to try and stop coal mining going ahead on the Great Barrier Reef after the second mass coral bleaching event in just two years. Everything I hear makes me weep.
In two weeks I am going to my first retreat. It is a Buddhist meditation retreat with early mornings and early nights. I am worried my mental capacity to cope will be limited let alone my physical ability to sit still for long periods. But I can’t wait to go.
My walk with the dogs this morning led me along a quiet, tree-lined track surrounded by dusty paddocks, thin young steers and heifers grazing on remnants of dry, straw-coloured grass. Overhead I heard the sound a royal ibis makes when it calls to its flock so now I will know it when I hear it again.
My daughter told me yesterday that the Eastern Spinebill she saw in the garden was the most beautiful bird she had ever seen.
A friend gave us a pallet of bricks to use for the garden and around the house. They are old and red, weathered and strong.
We have bought two huge Jarrah posts to make a verandah. They are over a 100 years old and were saved from an old Naval building that was to be bulldozed. Their aged presence brings quiet strength, our own arborglyph.
I picked some figs from our tree, they are green and purple and large and sweet. The tree is alive with parrots, finches, wrens and crows bursting out of the green leaves when I arrive only to settle back in the minute I walk away.
I know that life is fleeting and the sound that we make when we leave is but a hush. The noises in my head and the feeling in my soul are trying to tell me that I need to hush now as well and get on with living.