When fathers read …


I saw this building as we walked back to the car after a meal in Kalgoorlie.  I just had to take a picture because it brought back a special memory for me.  This building is off the main street where the beautiful old architecture of Kalgoorlie is protected.  This building, too, makes a statement.  And, so it should.  Individuality.

The memory it brought back is a precious one.

Dr T loved reading to our daughter, and she, a captive audience, hung around his neck like a pendant.  He read to her in infancy and it continued for the next few years.  With nearly a five year gap between our two children, she had our undivided attention.  When he went on sabbatical to Sweden for several months, he recorded stories for her.  Each night for three months she would sit in a small plastic chair, faced the cassette player and listened to her father’s voice.  Oh! how he loved speaking in all the different character voices and she delighted in the variations.  The favourite books for both were Peter Rabbit, The Wind in the Willows and the all time favourite book, The Big Orange Splot by Daniel Marcus Pinkwater.  My daughter credits her strong need for individuality and creativity to The Big Orange Splot.  She still makes references to it and to the time her father read to her.  The bond between them is still as strong as ever.

The Big Orange Splot is a wonderful story about individuality, diversity, acceptance and community.  The message is timeless.  I wish political leaders and parents would read the book!  We would live in different times, if they did.

If you haven’t heard of the book, it’s a wonderful way to spend five minutes on You Tube. The suggestion is my gift to you today.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird

In response to RDP Wednesday – BOOK

Finding meaning

via Daily Prompt: Complication

“You have the freedom to be yourself, your true self, here and now, and nothing can stand in your way.” – Richard Bach, Jonathan Livingston Seagull


Some see seagulls.  I look for them.  And, when I find them, and that’s not hard to do wherever I am, I flick through the pages of the book ‘Jonathan Livingstone Seagull’.  The quote above has never been more meaningful as it is today.

Decades ago, soon after my separation and while at university, I struck up the most unlikely friendship with a fellow classmate.  I was a mother from the suburbs, struggling to project an air of stability for my very young children, when my world had fallen apart.  He would have been a good 15 years younger than me, long blond hair (because he could not afford to cut it) and straight from the pages of the 1960s hippie era when he talked about love and freedom of choice.  He had an air about him.  He cared deeply for things that matter.  When around him, I took deep breaths.

One afternoon we met in the cafeteria.  We bought a meagre lunch and shared it between the two of us.  Still hurting I disclosed to him how overwhelming life was and how I wished I found someone who could fill the void.  I had learned to trust him when I bounced off him.  So I waited while he chewed silently and nodded his head thoughtfully while looking into the distance.  He then held my gaze while responding, “And, when you do, run like hell in the opposite direction!”  I was so confused!  He then went on to explain.  The universe had given me an opportunity to enrich my life.  The void was filled with opportunities.  I had never been whole before but it was attainable and when I achieved it, if anyone entered my life their presence would enhance it.  If and when they left, there would be no void.  I would still be whole.  Once I grasped what he meant, I found what I had, was infinitely more than what I did not.

It is dark as I write.  The kookaburras are suppressing a chortle in their throats somewhere nearby.  I love this moment when I’m home.  I am whole.

I leave in a few hours to pick up a new work commitment in the north.  I’m so looking forward to the opportunity.  Some may regard this as another complication to work-life balance.  Not me.

I’ve learnt to embrace the unknown. It epitomizes where I have always wanted to be.  I am who I want to be.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird




The Goodbye

via Daily Prompt: Suddenly

DSCN8248.jpg“She refused to say goodbye, It had a finality. A brutality. It was a point of reference. It had the power to define what was before it and all that came after. So she found a way to say goodbye, framed within a eulogy to friendship. After all, memories are meant to keep one warm, make one smile and soften the ragged edges. Or do they?

Suddenly, the uncertainty caught her off guard. She shivered. Facing the monstrous truth, her face crumbled.

She was child again.”

The above is an excerpt I wrote during an impromptu exercise.  It had special relevance to a moment in my life.  (I now realise, when put into perspective, yes, a moment of one’s life).

Since that point of reference, the sentiments in the excerpt  reflect my feelings at sunset each day. It’s an ambivalent moment for me.

Like a child with a toy, I’m always reluctant to let go, even though I know dawn will start the cycle again.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird



via Daily Prompt: Restart

DSCN5663.jpgThere are no roadblocks in life. Just many opportunities to restart.

Restart is a moment of pause before momentum.  It has thrust.  It has energy.  It moves you from where you are.  It clears the caches.  It refreshes.

Restart is a conscious choice, to make tomorrow whatever you want it to be.

Until next time

As always

a dawn bird