The Magnolia Tree:

It was under the Magnolia tree,

He loved me,

And our children played,

All three,

(and then four, five),

And the puppies leapt high,

Under the Magnolia tree.

We’d sit and talk for hours,

Under the Magnolia tree,

Butterflies & dreams & wishes,

And she’d listen,

Our beautiful old tree.

The seasons came & went,

And we aged,

But not she,

The children grew up & left,

But she stood strong,

Our Magnolia tree,

And even during the storm,

She was calm – our tree,

She would stand there,

As if to say,

“I’m still magnificent,

And you should still love me!”

How does she endure it all?

The seasons, the changes, the melee,

Does she miss me as much as I miss her,

My beauty, my magnolia tree?

I drove past the old house,

To see her one last time,

My old Magnolia tree,

She’s in full bloom as when,

I bought the house,

All of those years ago,

When she whispered to me.

Family holiday & writing assignment in far north tropical Queensland :)

FNQ Zac '16FNQ kayak '16

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“Did you miss me?” she asked …

“I guess so,” I answered, without making eye contact, as nonchalantly as I could.

“I did it to punish you,” she said casually.

“I know,” I answered, flicking through the mail.

“But every time I saw salt I would think of you and start to cry,”

“Oh really?” She knows how much I love salt.

“Were you crying into your cup of tea and pouring through old photos of me?”

“No,” I answered honestly, “I just kind of got on with my life.”

By now she was blinking back tears. Poor, dear thing: she’d never engaged in open warfare before and had no idea who she was dealing with – me; war torn, battle weary, permanently on my guard, defensive, jaded after all of the single and hand-to-hand combat missions I’d endured over my life – I was not about to start making tactical errors now.

“Would you have crumbled and died if I hadn’t come back?”

“Um, well, it would hurt for a while and then I guess I’d get over it,” I heard myself lying.

Her eyes met mine and we held that gaze.

“Come here,” I said with my arms outstretched and she melted into my embrace.

“I love you,”

“I love you too. It’s history now, leave it where it belongs,” and the dam inside of me receded a couple of inches, just enough to let me start breathing again.

Then we went straight back to chatting about the books we’d been reading as if nothing had ever happened.

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We talked until the wee hours again last night…

… you’ll never know how much I love you, how much your pain is my pain and that watching you go in and out of your dark night of the soul these past years tears me apart inside. But keep coming back to talk to me, don’t ever stop, I want you to always feel that I’m here for you. And I know we’ll make it – you and I – because today is a new day and tomorrow you’ll feel even better and when you crash and burn again, I’ll be here …

alive

My Magnum Opus:

Is it? Is my work going to live? I wanted to be a writer, that’s all, I wanted to write about it all – everything that happens in a moment – the way the flowers look when you carry them in your arms, how it smells, how it feels. All of our feelings – yours and mine – the history of it, who we once were, everything in the world, all mixed up, it’s all mixed up and how we want it all and . . . I failed!”

Virginia Woolf – The Hours (Mrs Dalloway)

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From the very core of my being, as a writer,  I can relate to this sentiment wholeheartedly. How we make ourselves busy, going about our lives thinking we’re doing very important things and how one day, any day now, the masterpiece will get written and everything will slot into place like a jigsaw puzzle.  But … then the realisation. This is my very important thing. This is my Magnum Opus. My wildest dreams came true the day I birthed my children into this world (and as I stood there outside the door anxiously waiting for my grandson to be birthed). This is my true calling and vocation and today is the day that my life changes forever 🙂

collagefam345ty collage tome

Journal entry:

My children and I weren’t born with silver spoons in our mouths: quite often we were alone together and their fathers were absent for whatever reason. There were no hands-on grandparents to help out, no high-flying career to bail us out of tough financial times. But you know what? You don’t get strong by swimming downstream without a current. The outcome of all of that is that there is an unbreakable bond between us and my children’s ability to endure and apply themselves to hard work and tough circumstances takes my breath away 🙂

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A Fight To The Death:

In my sleep,

I am an Angel fighting the Demonic forces,

I use reason, wisdom, love and patience,

From behind my shield;

Never wishing to do bodily harm.

 

The sinister laugh reverberates,

Through my entire being,

But I do not wither away for I am full of light;

All encompassing and saturating.

 

“Be gone, foul-stinking, swamp creature of the night,”

And it shrinks from me without defense,

My light wraps the entire place,

Guarding all who slumber within.

 

The deed is done,

The battle is fought,

A moment’s peace before I resume.

 

A creak – what was that?!

I leap from my resting place to check my charges,

One by one, I place the blankets over them,

And kiss their cherubic, sleeping cheeks.

 

All is well in my house so,

Back to battling demons but,

Before even that,

A silent prayer to whoever is listening,

For the blessing of my children,

For in truth, I am just a mother …

Demon hunter

 

 

 

 

 

More Snapshots of my life:

 

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The needlework that I saw at NGV almost made me wish I did that for a vocation instead of being a writer :)
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Just so much detail…

One of the proudest moments of my life – My Son’s Debutante Ball:

 

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My son’s first love:

I saw it all through his eyes,

How he waited for her,

Nervously, holding his breath,

His first love,

The one who would capture his heart,

How he thought he was “better off dead,”

Than twiddling his thumbs in the shadowlands,

“She will come, my son,

With your name on her heart, my child,

But rest for now, my love,

And let me mother you while we wait for her to beckon…”

lovers31