Month: June 2020

Home, the sanctuary

Somewhere in the Midwest

Life has resumed, as I knew it once, or almost as. And if the social and travel restrictions have had an impact on me, it has only intensified my desire to travel and work. But there has been a shift.

As a child, as young as six, I knew I wanted to break free of cultural expectations imposed on me. I wanted that open road ahead of me where I made my own choices. That feeling is still fresh and alive. But it came at a cost. As I filled in my life with work and my own choices, it left little space for meaningful relationships. I regarded them as a roadblock to where I wanted to be, of course, despite the destination being unknown.

For nearly seven years I have lived out of a suitcase because of frequent travel and returning to a house that has been under constant renovation. Now I can see the end in sight. I have many people who have contributed to this and in many ways have rescued me from myself on some level. My lovely old builder who had my house keys for years and worked to my schedule and budget with utmost patience. The handyman who refuses to accept his fee whenever he visits and gives me a generous discount despite my protests. Oh! how he loves to tell me about his life and give me tips on Italian recipes and, being a former butcher, the best cuts of meat to buy! Then there’s the painter with the most amazing eye for detail and a passion for golf. Last week he left a speck of blood near the ceiling (some 15 ft high) but was determined to fix it. With the scaffolding gone, he left me holding the ladder while he hyperventilated his way to the top! Now the internal painting is nearly completed and the house indoors is taking shape. To live comfortably, I am culling ruthlessly. Keeping stuff for sentimental reasons is perhaps a developmental phase. We reach a certain point in our lives when discarding is healthy. With fewer memories to hoard, I find myself creating new spaces to live in. Life, not space, has become a sanctuary.

To have someone enter my chosen lifestyle not to take up space, but to create space for me, is a sense of elation I have not experienced in years. This morning I woke to a darkened home. Outside there was a patch of moonshine highlighting the beginnings of the ‘writing space’. A gift I will treasure because the creativity and thought that went into this. Labelling that area of the garden as my ‘writing space’ and creating it with that purpose in mind is perceptive and thoughtful. The ‘creator’ would have known I am not someone who relaxes with a magazine. I sit and write.

That open road now has a destination. I will no longer return to my house after each trip. I will return home.

May you find your journey today leads to your home of choice.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird

In response to RDP – Tuesday – Rescue

Standing still

There is something magical that happens when a new relationship begins. Each moment is treasured, reflected on, stored in memory, much like those moments in nature when time stands still, and forces you to do so too.

Last night I slept where you had been
the sheets still warm from memories
when you were gone, I woke
to the darkness of dawn
silent with shadows
but filled with birdsong
so I snuggled in deeper,
with the memories
of where you had once been.

a dawn bird

In response to Word of the Day Challenge – Begin

Heart Mosiac

At that fluid edge
I collect pieces
chips, fragments, remnants
insert randomly
create storm cloud pathways
a mosiac, familiar to me
The way forward
is the way back
diverting, mending
unpicking threads of thoughts
that bind tightly
loosening, discarding
letting go,
letting in
forging the path ahead
where I want to be
with clarity.

a dawn bird

In response to RDP – Saturday – The Path Ahead

A month of rainbows – May 2020

It’s been a month of firsts. The first time of staying home for weeks on end and self imposed isolation, so the thrill of gaining essential worker status was genuine. I was needed in the Midwest and my ‘pass’ to move between restricted regions due to the COVID 19 lockdown meant I could travel again.

With limited flights I had to drive over 400 kms to Geraldton. I thoroughly enjoyed the drive with loud playlist for company. When stopped by the cops at checkpoint their laughter was genuine when I beamed and said I was travelling for work.

As we had to travel further north we had to fly in a small chartered plane. I was with two other colleagues and I was dreading it, but it turned out to be one of the best flights I have ever been on.

The first sight of Carnarvon is always wonderful. I never miss a chance to drive from town to Pelican Point. The sand dunes here are beautiful.
River gums trees are now synonymous with Carnarvon. I love the textured trunk and colours of the bark.
We drove past wonderful landscaped agricultural fields, just waiting to be seeded.
Our early morning starts were spectacular. Coffee, good company, laughter and an eagerness to get back to work, the perfect elixir.
Oh! those wide open spaces!
And the threat of the worst storm Western Australia experienced in a decade loomed. The dust from the fields added to the ambience when the storm hit. I was without power for ten hours in the hotel room. So I watched nature unleash fury. Oddly enough, it made me calmer.
No trip to Geraldton is complete without a stop at St Georges Beach at Champion Bay.
I also spent some time in Northampton, an old agricultural town.
I love these old buildings.
One of my colleagues grew up here and I had to laugh when she told me behind this building is Lavender Lane. Apparently every old town had a Lavender Lane. It is a euphemism as the lane was intended for the cart to come and collect the waste from outdoor toilets, before the days of modern toilets.
I drove under the arc of rainbows several times.
And found them in my suburb too on my return home.
But the most beautiful rainbow was the one over my home, and the rainbeau I found at the foot of my driveway. As they say, when you are least expecting it, ‘it’ happens.

With autumn behind, all I can say is, move over winter … I’m ready for spring.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird

In response to The Changing Seasons – May 2020