There is nothing to do BUT stay home. And baby girl was trying to keep herself busy at home, so she developed this reading plan thing-a-ma-jig.
Basically she was acting like a teacher. She wrote out a plan as to when she reads within those time periods, like 5 times a week (mind you most times she is at school, but I let it go) and told me to make a booking for the reading time. Like a reading group, where she was the teacher, and I was the student.
I said cool, I want to join the reading group now.
I walked into her room at the set time of 4:10pm. I sat on the floor, and like the teacher she often inspires to be, she introduced the novel, ‘The 13-Storey Treehouse’ and proceeded to ask the class (me) what we might think the book is about!
“Uh, I think it’s about a treehouse!” I said confidently, from the floor. 😁
She proceeded to read with great expression, clarity and enthusiasm for the book. And I must say, I was impressed. 🤩
I realised while listening to her, rain falling outside, wind squealing, that it’s double points when –
I’m relaxing
She is doing something to advance her learning, i.e. reading
And we are ticking off the staying warm requirement on such a freezing day.
Something has really cemented itself in me since we farewelled my uncle yesterday.
The parties and the get-togethers. You can never have enough.
We’ve had so many. And now I know, we will still have so much more. Because this is the stuff that makes you happy. It gives you satisfaction, spending time with family and friends that you love, those that enrich your soul, those that make your heart sing.
The memories, oh, the memories. Don’t you wanna make more? Don’t you wanna fill up all your days and nights with beautiful people, laughing and talking and singing and dancing, and just spending really good quality time with them?
Don’t you wanna make all your free days as beautiful as that?
I do. Tonight I was with loved ones, and I will endeavour to be with loved ones even more, more frequently, with purpose, with passion, with love…
I said it yesterday, and I’ll say it again. My extended family chose each other, time and time again.
Well I choose them too. My family. My extended family. All my relos. My dear friends. My adopted family and friends. All of them. I choose them, every time I can, and they will know it when they hear my call, my invite, my knocking on their door…
Because this is life. Make it count. Fill it up with memories, not stuff. 🙏💖
So instead, I’ll focus on the memories. Of my uncle.
I’ll start with a recent memory, even one that I’m pretty sure was shared today in church. My uncle was telling me at a family gathering not too long ago, about some of the family history. Not only does this kind of stuff fascinate me, as he is my Mum’s brother, but I find it amusing how each sibling often has their own version of events.
They are all true, of course! But still, their own take on it.
And I was eagerly listening to what he was telling me, and I can tell you honestly that I can’t remember what it was, but I remember one thing CLEARLY.
He was saying how he was the third born child in their family, but the first son. A huge grin spread across his face. This made him happy, proud, giddy like a child. I smiled with him, his worth and self-esteem at this fact so apparent, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget that moment. In a fairly patriarchal time, having a son was something revered strongly, just because well, having a boy, as well as the obvious fact that they carry on the family name, so it was clear this was spoken about, celebrated even.
He was certainly happy about it.
***
He was always happy, actually. He’d usually start talking to me, with a bit of a straight statement, that immediately turned into a joke, and honestly the second sentence in he’d be laughing, me joining in.
***
Hubbie got along with my uncle too. Hubbie told him countless times that he was the best dancer, told me too, and anyone that would listen… he was light on his feet, fast, and moved so easily, that he was able to dance to traditional folk music like no other. It truly was a joy to witness, a special thing to be in the presence of. To this day Hubbie is adamant, no one in my family is as good a dancer as he, with his grand-daughter a close second… of course, it runs in the blood. I imagine him dancing up there, ripping it up and having a ball.
***
But my fondest memory, isn’t really a specific memory, it’s a collection of them. Because as a teen growing up, my parents along with all of my aunties and uncles, would get together and play cards, A LOT.
It was always the women against the men. So my Mum and her two sister-in-laws, along with my Dad and his two brother-in-laws. I would be home… chilling in my bedroom, listening to music, watching a movie… and they would be carrying on like nothing else on a Saturday night. Can you imagine, six 60 year-old somethings making noise like there were 30 in the house? There would be laughter from the winning teams. Angry outbursts from the losing teams! There was banging on tables as they went “Na!” and slammed their cards down in a ‘take that!’ move. And after they had all had their fill, sometimes a few games, sometimes eight, they would keep talking, eating, drinking coffee, way into the wee hours of the morning.
I really loved them being there. It made me happy. Seeing my parents happy, made me happy. Seeing my uncles and aunties happy, made me happy. Seeing them all together, having fun, laughing, getting cross at each other, accusing each other of cheating (😮😬😆) and making memories, is one of my best memories of them all. Because they had each other. They were having a ball, with none other than their very own family. I realised even at that young age, how special it was, and thought often, too often actually, how lucky they all were. They were all present, they were all there. They were each other’s peers, sharing all their happiness, troubles, all stories.
When I was younger I would sit with them, counting my Mums cards. When I was older, I would wonder into the kitchen sometimes at midnight, and they’d be there in the next room, playing cards. Sometimes they would acknowledge me, sometimes they’d stare seriously at their set of cards, as if the state of the world depended on it. Other times I would go to sleep, and they’d whisper loudly as they passed my bedroom, leaving the house at 1:30am.
This memory has nothing to do with me. But I was witness to it, and seeing the love around that table, hearing what transpired, the good, and the incredibly funny… I will never forget it. It was the best time. For all of us.
You can’t choose who your family are, but you can choose who you spend your time with. And they chose each other, time and time again.
Rest in peace Ujo. I don’t think I can look at a set of cards or hear a kolo, without thinking of you fondly.
We had a visitor tonight, one we have never seen inside our home…
Or have we?
It was a tiny, little, orange with black spotted ladybird. Just walking along the floor like that.
I felt emotional. I gathered it up in a cup, and took it outside, coaxing it out of the cup and onto the porch bench.
We’ve never had a ladybird in the house. NEVER. And it so happened tonight, after I had been going through photo, after photo, after photo, of loved ones…
I’m still in a state of shock, so I don’t know what to write, or how to start this.
My uncle passed away today.
He was my Mum’s oldest brother, third oldest out of the hierarchy of kids… and what a hierarchy it is. Eight surviving children out of 14. Yep. My Mum’s Mum had 14 children, and only eight survived past early childhood.
But he was third oldest. I was maybe about 10 or 11 when they moved to Australia from their war-torn country.
He and my aunty were in their 50s when they moved here, can you imagine? Moving to the other side of the world at that age, to a place where you didn’t know the language or way or life, just so you could be closer to your kids and other extended family?
They made the best decision ever.
And so, although I am sad tonight, sad for my Mum, sad for my aunts and uncles, sad for my cousins, sad for all of our family… I am so glad we had these years with them, with him. I’m so glad I got to meet him. Honestly, my Mum’s family is big, and there are relatives I haven’t even met, or have only met once.
So to have spent the last 25+ years of my life getting to know my aunt and uncle in a different, personal way, shared memories and good times and chats and parties all together… it is something truly special.
It is something to be grateful for. I am finding it hard tonight, but I will think of what we gained when they moved here, and I’d rather that, than the other.
Today was such a day… again. Yep, this weekend has been all about deep cleaning, and somehow, with the still and sunny days, I have oddly enjoyed it.
My pride and joy right now is my oven. I used the self-cleaning function again, got a little bit of a heart attack when the door locked itself shut, but then today, somehow, it unlocked, and I looked inside to see it looking so sparkly and new. 🤩
And now I’m on the couch, enjoying my relaxation and knowing I well and truly deserve it. 💖
carcrashgratitude 