Two appointments on the other side of town, visiting my parents and sister and fam in between that, and then a big writers meet-up at the end of the night back home.
It’s been a lot.
It’s been a day of a lot of things. Hope. New directions. New people. New plans.
I’m a glass half-full gal, and things are starting to feel right. That glass is filling up again.
With HOPE. 🤞
I’m going on, rambling a bit, I know. I just don’t really know where to rest my creative mind, to release these thoughts from, what to centre on when much has given me happiness today.
But I will talk about nature, because it inspires me.
Specifically, my parents and my sister’s backyard.
I used to love spending time in the backyard of my childhood home. All those memories, all those fun times, so much joy within those trees and the shady spots. I was amazed and surprised then, when I found myself loving my parents’ NEW backyard, finding beauty in little pockets of grass, verdant greenery full and lush underneath your feet, life brimming and blooming from the smallest spring of herb, to a wide-reaching leaf of a fern.
That beauty extends equally to my sister’s backyard.
I was admiring this gorgeous tree, sprouting golden Autumn leaves. We were in her backyard sitting and talking, and so many times I was accidentally witness to a yellow leaf floating easily to the ground.
Before my very eyes.
It was a magical sight.
And I realised later when I headed off, how I find beauty in both of their backyards, and how that must mean something more… for those we love, we find the beauty inherent everywhere, all around them, because they are love.
We are doing renovations at the moment… small ones, yet they will hopefully be long, beautiful and lasting.
(On us, or our backyard do you think????)
One day I hope, someone will look at our yard and see the beauty lying in wait, wanting to be found.
Today was the day that we said goodbye to our family home.
The home that my parents have lived in for 40 years.
The home that my sister spent growing up as a teenager, all the way until she got married.
The home that’s the only childhood, family home I’ve ever known… that I lived in for 25 years until I got married.
Goodbye, number 14.
It was an emotionally bittersweet day. Emotional because oh God, all of the above! So many memories are in every inch, every corner, every crevice of that house.
Through the rush to get everything out of the house this morning, I tried to pause every so often, look around, take a breath, and say a personal thanks to the house that made my years growing up, the best in the world.
Here is the emotional part.
I was reflecting on my life spent there as I walked around the empty rooms, a bit taken aback by the hollowness of it all. The furniture, furnishings, and all the photos and trinkets that made it such a loved home, were all gone.
But oh, those walls. If those walls could talk.
Those walls would speak of happiness, of laughter. Of sadness and shock, family coming together, and family celebrating to make the most out of life.
And love. SO much love.
Memories hit me as I walked into rooms, turned corners. Looked this way, that. People from the past resurfaced, along with people from the present.
In the lounge room, I saw myself sitting on the floor while my parents watched footy on the TV.
In the kitchen I saw my Mum cooking up a feast, our family sitting down to eat at the small round table, perfect for us in size, so perfect, to keep us tight and close together, as always.
In the garden I saw happiness. Friends, cousins, brimming around, enjoying a drink on a hot Summer’s day, folk music from the garage wafting over and adding to the festive atmosphere of it all.
The garage, ohhhh, the garage. Where so, so, so many parties and events were had. Birthdays. Milestones. Weddings. Day after weddings! New Years. And all of the Christmases that Mum cooked up a storm, catering for over 30 people like it was an absolute breeze, even though it wasn’t.
She made it look effortless.
Those were the days. Those were the BEST days.
The park next door. Hearing the squeals of happiness from our younger cousins as they took advantage of the play proximity.
At the front door, I saw my sister being led out in her wedding dress by my parents… then I saw myself, doing the same.
The dining room showed me all of us, our big family, as we are now. The original foursome, us, being my parents, sister and I, but now with our Hubbies and our kids, filling up the table, eating heaps, drinking more, and playing music off of youtube on the mobile until the late hours of the night.
In my bedroom. The bedroom that I spent 15 years of my life sleeping, dreaming and hoping in. I had another room for the first 10 years of my life, but I claimed this one, sister’s one, after she got married and moved out.
It’s always been the better room.
I sat in my old room. Took some photos around me. And then here, I began to cry.
I remember watching Video Hits for hours on weekend mornings.
My childhood cat scratching at my window, wanting to be let in, and then me opening the window to shoo her, upset she had woken me… but when she jumped down from the window sill outside, I thought stuff it, you’ve woken me now… and so I would call her back in (she must have thought I was a crazy bipolar cat owner) and she’d snuggle up next to me as I slept a little more.
I’d open up that window, and talk to friends through it.
I talked to SO MANY people, through it.
I listened to music for hours on my bed.
I had sleepovers in that room.
I had sleepovers in that house! On the lounge room floor, covered in blankets and sleeping bags.
When Croatia played Australia in the 2006 World Cup, Hubbie-then-boyfriend and I watched it, me running around the house with a Cro flag when Croatia scored a goal, and Hubbie running around the house with an Aussie flag when they scored a goal.
I don’t remember who won that game. All I remember is the memories.
All the people who came, and went from that house. It would be in the hundreds. Friends, family, people who I grew up with, grew apart from, so many people have touched base in that house, shared a laugh, a dance, a drink, and made a memory.
Even baby girl. It was the first place that she ever visited, after her own home.
Speaking of baby girl… My waters broke in that house! And my own Mum’s waters broke in there, when she was pregnant with me!
Both sister’s Hubbie, and my Hubbie, met my parents for the first time in THAT lounge room…
News broke. Secrets shared. Heavy discussions were had. Tears shed.
People were welcomed. People were greeted.
People came in, and immediately knew that there was love. They were safe. They were in a memorable place.
And so today, the time came. We walked through the house. We took our final photos.
And we drove off, for good.
That was seriously bitter, right?
Where is the sweet?
Well, it comes with the choice. How blessed are we that this was born of my parents decision to move closer to me and sis, and not because of a bad circumstance.
How lucky are we that we get to say goodbye, together, in the best way possible… and how lucky that we still get to take ALL the memories with us?
Including most importantly, the people.
I am so looking forward to making just as many happy memories in their new abode. 🏡🏡
But my heart will always hold a very special and dear place, for number 14.
Ahh. Just gets you all inspired to do stuff, tackle life, and chase your dreams, right?
I’m laughing because just recently I was saying how we don’t need a new year or a new date, to want to start anew again.
And yet there I was tonight, getting motivated by those beautiful colours, thinking of about 16 different things I wanted to do… just tonight. 🤦♀️
So where do I stand? Still strongly by my original statement. We don’t need to wait for a new year, month, season, or any other seemingly opportune time to start doing the things we want to do, or start living a more full and meaningful life.
You can start whenever you want to.
But – if a change in weather, a crazy happy event, even a colourful sky, inspire you to clear your slate and try something new…
Well by all means, run with it.
We don’t choose inspiration. Inspiration chooses us.
And please please please please please, don’t wait a whole year to start again.
Clearly I was on a train, for those not quite sure about that offensive multi-coloured blue upholstered smudge that are train seats, and also the side window looking out at the platform…
And my brown boot.
I was on my way to training… for a new job!
Now I can’t say definitively that I HAVE the job… that’s what the training is for. And there are tests at the end of each week during the training period to make sure we’re on the right path…
So I am cautiously optimistic.
It’s been 6 months that I’ve been out of work. 6 months of doing what I like (to some extent with baby girl in tow), trying to get ahead in my writing, walking in and out of places at whim, and mostly, thinking thinking thinking.
But today in comparison was a totally crazy day.
I was up at 550am, catching a 645 train after brekkie in the car, swapping to another train in the city to make it to work bang smack at 8am.
I had NO snacks up until lunchtime and was starving, smashing a salad roll and coffee in 15 minutes. I looked at apps and tabs, tried to get my head around the influx of tech stuff, emails, new people, meetings, reading guidelines, getting overwhelmed at the sheer number of info I need to remember, only to nearly lose myself and miss my train home.
I came home tired, spent and flustered.
I’m even feeling sick.
But I loved it.
I was feeling a bit lost before this came up. I thought the days of commuting and doing a 9-5 were over. The plan was to freelance, write, and make a name for myself from the comfort of my home.
But it didn’t work out as I’d planned. I felt uninspired, confused about my future direction, and feeling frustrated at my lack of financial contribution to the household.
I know it’s still very early days, but this set-up is perfect. Because although I’ll be spending more time away from home, the time I do get at home I’ll be more motivated than ever to win at my writing game.
That HASN’T changed, nor will it ever. But I had to find a way to make things work, and this new line of employment looks set to make things happen for me, all while I feel productive, useful, and like I’m contributing… to the world.
And that means EVERYTHING.
Super-early bedtime for me tonight… because now I’m a working girl. 😉
I can just as easily have named this a ‘reasons why I love living by the beach’ post with the waterbeing a theme and all once again,but the true intentions of my writing and where I am coming from are so different this time.
Sure, it was hot.
Sure, I wanted to make the most of Summer.
Sure, I wasn’t passing up a hot day offer from Melbourne even if it meant I was alone.
Especially because I was alone. 😉
But I’ve been in a funny space lately. Neither here nor there. Thinking about life, wondering what to do, in this odd middle-ground of nothingness, where nothing is the only thing that actually happens…
Just a whole lot of thinking instead.
I’ve been coming to grips with this weird phase, reminding myself that we all go through it at certain times of life and it’s part of the whole cocoon process in becoming a new person.
To become a butterfly we must shed our shell. But we must hide out and hibernate first to do so.
Part of my quest this year, the year of balance as I’m calling it, the ‘2020’ year, is to find more time to make me happy.
You might think that is SO easy given I don’t have a job. I have plenty of time, right?
Time doesn’t necessarily equate to heart and purpose though. And it’s awfully hard to find motivation when the car that is your life stalls and has to change new tyres, and you suddenly don’t know where the tyres are coming from. And then someone tells you to not stress, and relax.
You try relax while waiting for a tyre change.
So in the meantime, I really have to do things for me.
Things that fill my soul with purpose.
Things that make me smile.
Things that I miss doing.
Things that I always put on the backburner because I need to cook/clean/make phone calls/do washing/a billion other things on my to-do list.
Going to the beach on my lonesome is just one of those wonderful ‘me’ things.
(the seagull had to photobomb my solitary beach photo!)
Firstly, when alone at the beach, I have no one in tow, and no one to answer to. I decide when I come and go. I sit on the sand for as long as I like, and I sit in the water for as long as I like.
And today, while sitting in the water and having waves crash over me… well it truly reset my car battery. 😉
I’ve written a little story about it on Instagram, about waves and life and letting go, so I do hope you check it out… you can find me under smikgwriter so give me a yell if you’re on there too. ♥