Olivia's first game..see if you can spot her....grins
Friday, August 27, 2010
Wednesday, August 18, 2010
Picture Perfect ~ Framed
Welcome to
Picture Perfect
Competition Time!!
This is #2 in the 6 week
Summer Competition series
this weeks theme is:
Framed
hosted by Gary
(as I'm an admin on PP, this is an unofficial entry!)
Worn out at the end of another busy day, my mother falls asleep mid-sentence, quietly framed by her night light's golden glow.
oOo
Picture Perfect is a weekly photo theme
Saturday, August 14, 2010
The 15th of August ~ Happy Birthday Mum
Today is my mother's birthday.
We tend to turn back the clock and review and ponder the years we have travelled through, when there's a birthday!
A few weeks ago my sister and I sat having dinner, overlooking the ocean, listening to seals bark in the sunset, and we reviewed our childhood, our growing up years, and how fortunate we were to have the mother we did.
. We chatted about all the various things she has been and done through all the years, and how at different times we have done for her.
Its not easy watching our parents grow older and more frail each year, its not easy being the caregiver to the person who has nurtured and cared for you all her adult life, and while my mum is far from being incapable, the burden however light is surely felt now, from all parties.
Our story is special to us. My sister and I were both adopted at birth, and she is all the mother we have ever known. We have, at various times of our lives sought our birth mothers in a half hearted way, when we had children of our own I think the need suddenly arose. My mum always gave us as much information as she could, and let us do with it as we pleased. We made brief enquiries...nothing, that door had been firmly shut, and we have never had the urge to look again!
Our childhood was as perfect as any could be. We grew up in a tiny village in Swaziland, in the heart of rural Africa..on a small farm swarming with ducks and chickens, cows and horses, and a plethora of dogs and cats! We roamed wild during school holidays, exploring nearby streams (swarming with bilharzia, which we never contracted because we knew to swim in cold flowing water only) and waterfalls, picking wild berries and swiping fruit from the neighbours farms. We walked barefoot along dusty roads and allowed our young imaginations to run as wild as our little growing bodies.
At night we climbed into clean comfy beds with white cotton sheets, sometimes darned, always ironed and crisp....
We went to boarding school at a young age, I was 11 and my sister was 8. Over the years, it made us yearn for home all the more and made the bonds with our parents that much stronger.
We came home for half term breaks and school holidays only, and so we lived for the tuck boxes my mother packed so lovingly, we craved the the milo bars and tins of condensed milk, yearned for the home made rusks and the chocolate drinks.
The tuck never lasted the term because we never ever mastered the art of rationing!
Its difficult to put all that love and nurturing onto one page. To recall all the little things done with love, from the home made clothes to the painful task of sewing on name tags on to every single item of clothing we needed at boarding school. The jerseys and scarves knitted and the rips mended in stockings to protect us from the bitterly cold winters on the South African Highveld. Her energy then and now, is incredible!
And then, oh the wonderful holidays at home.
The late sleep ins, the special breakfasts, the toast done just so, the grapefruit halved and segmented, with just the right amount of sugar, quietly prepared by her before leaving for a long hard day at work.
Our favourite dinners, appeared like magic and there was always time for long conversations, she coped calmly, seemingly, with a house which always seemed to be overflowing with people. Did we grow up spoiled? With love..certainly!
But while we always had enough, we were never over indulged with material things, there were limits and strict boundaries always, boundaries we never questioned or thought about crossing.
A few weeks ago my sister and I sat having dinner, overlooking the ocean, listening to seals bark in the sunset, and we reviewed our childhood, our growing up years, and how fortunate we were to have the mother we did.
. We chatted about all the various things she has been and done through all the years, and how at different times we have done for her.
Its not easy watching our parents grow older and more frail each year, its not easy being the caregiver to the person who has nurtured and cared for you all her adult life, and while my mum is far from being incapable, the burden however light is surely felt now, from all parties.
Our story is special to us. My sister and I were both adopted at birth, and she is all the mother we have ever known. We have, at various times of our lives sought our birth mothers in a half hearted way, when we had children of our own I think the need suddenly arose. My mum always gave us as much information as she could, and let us do with it as we pleased. We made brief enquiries...nothing, that door had been firmly shut, and we have never had the urge to look again!
Our childhood was as perfect as any could be. We grew up in a tiny village in Swaziland, in the heart of rural Africa..on a small farm swarming with ducks and chickens, cows and horses, and a plethora of dogs and cats! We roamed wild during school holidays, exploring nearby streams (swarming with bilharzia, which we never contracted because we knew to swim in cold flowing water only) and waterfalls, picking wild berries and swiping fruit from the neighbours farms. We walked barefoot along dusty roads and allowed our young imaginations to run as wild as our little growing bodies.
At night we climbed into clean comfy beds with white cotton sheets, sometimes darned, always ironed and crisp....
We went to boarding school at a young age, I was 11 and my sister was 8. Over the years, it made us yearn for home all the more and made the bonds with our parents that much stronger.
We came home for half term breaks and school holidays only, and so we lived for the tuck boxes my mother packed so lovingly, we craved the the milo bars and tins of condensed milk, yearned for the home made rusks and the chocolate drinks.
The tuck never lasted the term because we never ever mastered the art of rationing!
Its difficult to put all that love and nurturing onto one page. To recall all the little things done with love, from the home made clothes to the painful task of sewing on name tags on to every single item of clothing we needed at boarding school. The jerseys and scarves knitted and the rips mended in stockings to protect us from the bitterly cold winters on the South African Highveld. Her energy then and now, is incredible!
And then, oh the wonderful holidays at home.
The late sleep ins, the special breakfasts, the toast done just so, the grapefruit halved and segmented, with just the right amount of sugar, quietly prepared by her before leaving for a long hard day at work.
Our favourite dinners, appeared like magic and there was always time for long conversations, she coped calmly, seemingly, with a house which always seemed to be overflowing with people. Did we grow up spoiled? With love..certainly!
But while we always had enough, we were never over indulged with material things, there were limits and strict boundaries always, boundaries we never questioned or thought about crossing.
There arent enough words to say thank you mum,
there isnt enough time for us
to ever show you how grateful we are
that you loved us enough to make us
your priority,
and because of that love and guidance,
we are the best women
and the best mothers we can possibly be.
We have stable happy children
inspite of exteme hardships through our lives,
because you showed us
how to overcome adversity, and grow strong
through the trauma's.
You showed us what unconditional love is truly all about,
and because of you they too will be better people and parents.
there isnt enough time for us
to ever show you how grateful we are
that you loved us enough to make us
your priority,
and because of that love and guidance,
we are the best women
and the best mothers we can possibly be.
We have stable happy children
inspite of exteme hardships through our lives,
because you showed us
how to overcome adversity, and grow strong
through the trauma's.
You showed us what unconditional love is truly all about,
and because of you they too will be better people and parents.
And so your legacy lives on
and on and on......
and as the ripples flow outwards to your friends and neighbours
encompassing a whole community,
it also drips right down and seeps into the souls of your grandchildren
encompassing a whole community,
it also drips right down and seeps into the souls of your grandchildren
and
great-grandchildren.
Your love will surely multiply and grow
and the end will never be known,
because your goodness and your love knows no bounds...
and the end will never be known,
because your goodness and your love knows no bounds...
Happy 78th Birthday Mum!
xXx
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Redone
Its slow to change,
that memory of warmth
the soft trail of suggestion
an absent-minded trailing
of a hand across your arm
gently touching hair
and further
a scar of which I know nothing
and don't dare ask
I do not know the difference
you see
between the dream
And the reality
it has become the inter mingled
blur
of a red hummingbird's wings
The dream erupts
in my waking eye and
spreads across
my undone horizon
as I languish for those
first minutes
savouring the slight
gesture of your hand
in the half light
which may have read
future
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)