Sunday, January 9, 2011

Something in the water

This week has been a little reflective for me, somewhat sad and a little eye opening. I had a funeral to attend this week to pay respects to someone I will miss seeing and chatting to, a neighbour of mine and a relative of my Sister's. The funeral, her loss, the effect on my sister and her family, it's made me think again on the passing of my in-laws this last two years. I know how greatly that neighbour will be missed by her family, how much my family misses Aaron's parents.

The morning of the funeral I got reacquainted there with a neighbour from my childhood. I left that day feeling so grateful to have crossed paths with her again. She had so many insightful things to say on life and on death. I realised that someone's passing just makes you see this life you have , the past, the present and the future. It is a big pause button on your fast moving life, that unfortunately a funeral is what it takes to make one reflect. I wanted immediately to be home to hold my children, my husband, to take the time to be in the moment. We are all vulnerable, and we're only here for an indeterminate amount of time.

Time washes over us all, rich and poor young and old.

My eldest daughter's little world just got a little wider this week. On Friday she left for a holiday with her best friend and her family, without us, going to Tasmania for a week. How broadening an experience for her that will be! I remember taking them there two years ago: The children were younger, Eliza the exact age Circe is now. I am trying to remember was she talking, was she walking? How did I take three children on a plane on my own, I am also thinking, was I crazy? It was a time where I needed to be in the company of a friend where the kids could feel a little free away from the city. I treasure that experience, that time, and I keep my memories tangible and close by, in a jar.
They are all growing up. My son, too, is gone away for three nights from today, he will be camping with my neighbour and her son. I'm sure he will so benefit from this, but I will miss him terribly. With Bea I know she will be fine, she has been away to camp, but for Phoenix this is the first real long time from home. I see him as a bit less robust, he is the smallest in his grade. Tough in his own way, though.

I am glad I have an excuse to get to the beach again on Wednesday to pick him up. They grow so quickly and right before your eyes too. Life is short I am choosing to give them them opportunities to be independent, to wear mismatched shoes or paint their nails blue as Eliza does. To make their own mistakes to feel the vulnerability of their life so they can make the most of theirs. To open their eyes wider to the world but to maintain their closeness to home, to know that they are loved and accepted for who they are.
window II
Coming home from the service, what a contrast I had at home for me. There I had seen this beautiful woman's life remembered in photographs and in home movies, and here at home I had a little life just taking on the world, new and fresh everyday something more than the day before. She's growing too, my little Circe has been making her presence hard to ignore, especially in the frenzy of my sewing.
She wants in on all the action, she wants to see what all that thread does what all those smells are, what is up there when I push a chair up. Her new found interest in her abilities led me to need to get out of the house, to bring the world to her. The day after the funeral I wanted to experience some life. What better way than to get to the beach, I mean WOW what must that be like for a 15-month old.

I know every summer when I see it again for the first time in months I am amazed, my kids love it. We even found starfish this time, my daughter wanted to go back and fetch her diary to draw them. My son thought it was the best day ever. He said those exact words, "Thank you Mum, this was my best day ever!" That was worth the sand I had to wash away from my kitchen sink, and the sand I am yet to vacuum from the car.

It's not just my children. Everything is growing, moving into the future. My garden this year provided me with impressive artichokes, well this week one that had kind of fallen behind had been left to flower. What a spectacularly gorgeous flower they produce. How could I not photograph this?
artichoke, drawing, and twig
Time's passing is sometimes sad, sometimes even terribly sad. But it brings joy and beauty, too. My children, knowing my love of delicate things, bought in a gift for me this week, a tiny egg from our front garden. How special, how beautiful, they were bringing the world to me: A life had come from this egg. A reminder to me to tread carefully on this here planet, to stop and take notice or I will miss the beauty life has to offer.
free at last

1 comment: