How can one simple photo, make me so happy?
Because it’s my life. 💖
How can one simple photo, make me so happy?
Because it’s my life. 💖
Today I headed back to the Loft.
Once again I was overcome with emotion at the last part of the session, the relaxation/meditative element if you will, that follows the main yoga-exercise part. Once the session is over our teacher gets us to pick a card from a spiritual deck, and read the message that we have been drawn to read.
I read mine over twice, letting it sink in.
It was all about ‘The Space Between.’ How often we feel frustrated and stuck being in that in-between space, where we are neither here or there… and yet it is in this space of indecision, of the unknown, that we do the most growing.
It is the space that is the most beautiful, because we learn and get the most out of it.
Interestingly I came across the same thought elsewhere just days ago, and the thought was, if you can be comfortable not knowing, then you can learn anything.
I sat quietly, going over these words, freaking out at just how accurate they were for me during this limbo stage of my life.
After all that stretching, lifting, pulsing, deep breathing and contemplation, it made sense that I had to head down a couple blocks to get myself a post-workout pick up… 😉
I then took myself and my boosts of energy down to the water, to sit, breathe, take in all I had learnt and felt the last hour, and just BE.
I also went a step further, and I didn’t only take photos of the glistening wavy waters in front of me…
But I looked behind me, and around, looked at the sand, the trees, the grasses.
I looked at the spaces in between. 💖
I was going through old family photos this evening as I searched for photos of my Dad over the years, for his official birthday today.
I don’t know about you, but I get sucked into a time warp when I start doing this. I go through one year, then another, and another… suddenly I’ll look up from what I’m doing and be like “woah. Where am I?”
Like I’ve just woken up or something.
Photos transport you. I love going through them, and I’m trying my damndest to keep all my photo albums documented and in chronological order, though I’m very behind… but still trying.
And in thinking about photos, I realised that their ability to transport you to different times, and with different people, make them invincible.
They defy time and space.
They live forever.
It immediately made me think of words. Words live forever too. Think of the words you read by a poet 200 years ago… they breathe new life when you quietly repeat them in your mind, the meaning travelling through centuries to make its way to you.
And music. I LOVE music. Think of all the songs you love, from singers and bands that have long now gone, the words and the melodies that you continue to belt out in your car, when you’re doing the dishes, or in the shower… their lyrics and the music continue to live on through you, when you press play on your device, or decide to go acapella, wherever.
Art. Art is what it is. I love art, creativity, in all its forms.
Part of the reason is, IT CAN NEVER DIE. People, words, songs, they will always be revived when they are recalled, read, played.
Of course, they are passionate expressions of creativity, and that is simply the most beautiful thing. Even photography, it captures a moment in time, something that nothing else can quite do, and helps you to recall sudden scents, sights, a dress you used to wear when you were young, or a place you used to visit, and no longer do…
Photos can do all of this, and it was this I was reminded of when passing through the many years of my Dad’s life tonight.
They remind us of all the times of our life, when our own memories fail us.
How many other wonderful things will be captured by photo, that we are yet to live?
How many beautiful words are we yet to read?
And what magical music are we yet to hear?
Beautiful food for thought. 💖💖
Life has been so busy lately. So busy, that we’ve forgotten a lot of who we are.
May has come around too fast. And another Monday, come and gone.
It was only last week when I went “damn. That came fast.”
Our ‘special’ day.
Not having the time to celebrate when you’re ‘meant to’ does not mean jack.
Take the commercial days, of Valentine’s Day, hell even throw in Mother’s Day and Father’s Day.
They’re all the same.
We’re told as a society that we have to do something, we must do something to celebrate it, show off for social media, friends and family…
It is lovely to celebrate, appreciate loved ones in our life, and I’m not saying that I don’t do it, personally…
But you should celebrate your special people, ALL THE DAYS of your life. Not just when the catalogues and ads tell you too.
Same as for other days.
Days like, an anniversary. 💖💖
Our anniversary fell on a Monday this year. Work, school, swimming, groceries, phone calls, emails, basketball game, routine routine routine… it was all too much. It was a fairly uneventful day, and that’s ok, because we share our love for each other on other days, in other ways, and it doesn’t really matter if it’s not on this EXACT day.
I’m not trying to convince myself, honest. 😂 In fact, we are going out tomorrow night, and going away for a couple of nights soon too.
Let there be love on all the days. Let there be hugs, kisses, displays of affection, cards and presents, snuggles and all kinds of lovey-dovey things, on all the days.
Not just when it is deemed special, by society, by milestone, or by date.
I had a really lovely night… sans Hubbie. He was out playing basketball.
Baby girl and I had dinner together, then we sat on the couch and she read school books to me.
Then we watched Masterchef, and we never watch Masterchef. 😂
Hubbie came home, and then eventually we sat on the couch as a family, to do one special thing together, something small to highlight our ‘special’ day…
We looked through our official photos. 😍
Baby girl and I put on the special photo gloves, and she helped me leaf through the pages, as we all reminisced, and she learnt and discovered.
And I couldn’t have thought of a better way to end the night.
I don’t know how I rigged this.
But I’ve been relaxed and seated on the couch for like, 2 hours, doing my OWN thing.
Netflix. Writing. Photos.
No one is bugging me! And they’re awake!
Shhh… Or they’ll hear us.
You know, they.
Phwoar. What a day.
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.
There are worse places to be stuck, surely.
And I was only saying the other day, “next time we should stay here for a couple more nights…”
Well I got my extra night alright.
BE CAREFUL WHAT YOU WISH FOR!
So, how to spend the day when you have no place to go, but the apartment, facility and greenery that surrounds you?
If you’re Hubbie, you play basketball on the courts.
If you’re baby girl, you swim in the indoor swimming pools, jump on the jumping pillow, and make friends in the playground.
If you’re me, you take photos. 😍
And then as a family, you end the day with a feast, because let’s make the most of it shall we?
Things are starting to look up… despite this paradise, let’s hope we can get on the road tomorrow 🤞🙏
What a fucking day.
And I don’t swear lightly… on social media, that is. But today was totally fucking swear-worthy.
The start and end of it look quite blissful… see?
Baby girl’s babycino following our buffet brekkie. Then me enjoying some relaxing time while baby girl screamed “cannonball!” launching into the shallow swimming pool’s waters.
But the meat of the sandwich that was between those two photos? The middle of the day?
That is a story and a half.
Because we had started the day happy, you see. We had brekkie, and on our way to visit a beach we had only stopped by days earlier, made a pit stop to get a boogie board for baby girl, which ended up being a family boogie board, so awesome and big and colourful it was.
We were just pumped. Couldn’t wait to get to the beach, oh, 10 minutes away…
But then my car overheated.
The temperature gauge went to red.
Hubbie pulled over in a panic.
And in the space of a few hours, we were waiting waiting waiting, had a huge mix-up with our car roadside insurance that resulted in help being sent a lot later than we would have liked, we were hot, stuck on a busy road. were in the vicinity of a possible Wolf Creek type abduction attempt when a man pulled over after seeing me outside the car, and in between all of the waiting, being told by the roadside guy there was nothing he could do, daydreaming about the boogie board we should have been using then at the beach…
Well there were the water birds.
We called them ducks the whole time, but they were too big to be ducks. These birds were on one side of the busy road as we waited over an hour for help, and in that space they proceeded to leisurely cross the two sides of traffic, a number of 4 times.
At first, we couldn’t watch. We told baby girl to cover her eyes, sure that one of them would be splattered and flattened over the asphalt. They were lanky, moved slowly, and just lacked any kind of fear or trepidation when it came to forcing huge pieces of machinery to brake to a stop to allow them to pass.
And yet, they passed. They made it. There were 6 of these animals, with one of them hobbling like it’d been swiped by a vehicle… and yet they crossed the two-sided road 4 times.
It was a miracle.
Cars, even trucks, pulled to a stop. We watched in amazement as traffic on this busy tourist road came to a standstill, as these slow-moving water birds ambled across slowly, seemingly unaware of the chaos they were creating.
They managed to move, however slowly, while we sat there static, in the heat, a little bit in awe of their bravery (and sometimes, stupidity).
My faith in humankind was restored, even following the Wolf Creek incident, seeing ‘most’ of the cars patiently wait for these indecisive avian kind to work out which side of the road they wanted to be on.
And that faith in people continued when some time later, a random cafe owner we had passed only that morning on our fated way to the beach, ended up helping Hubbie get back on the road, however slowly, where we breathed a huge sigh of relief that we were back in a known, safe, comfortable place.
But now, we are stuck.
There are a couple of morals to this story. One is the REAL truth behind all the social media photos you see. Despite the filters being put on display, it doesn’t mask the truth in between the snaps of photos being taken and the 100 special effects being created.
And secondly… there are miracles to be observed, even amongst unbelievable odds and impossible situations.
To be continued…
How do you show gratitude on a day when you move forward…
But then you move back?
I started work again… but then I was like, damn I am cranky.
I was feeling better… but then I was like, “DAMN! I AM NOT!”
Things were looking on the upside… and just as quickly they turned to poo.
So, what do you do?
Sit on the couch. Binge TV. Talk it out. Message your Hubbie silly things while he’s sitting next to you.
Go through photos on your phone. Read old things you’ve written. Laugh with loved ones.
And suddenly, things won’t seem so worrisome after all.
Tomorrow, is a new day.
In the afternoon, on this glorious sunny Spring Sunday, I went upstairs to sit on the bed, rays of sunshine streaming through the window, and proceeded to fill up photo albums with photos.
It’s been a mammoth task I’ve been trying to do for the longest time, even pre-iso… but being in iso, makes things all the more easier to do.
I sat for a few hours, and filed up to 800 photos.
What makes this horrific, is that these photos are from 2015.
Yes, it is shocking that I am over 5 years behind in my photo record-keeping. But this isn’t even the major reason why the 800 photos are horrific.
It’s horrific because, those photos are from Jan 2015… to July 2015.
800 photos from only that small time frame!
And it isn’t even ALL of Jan, or ALL or July that’s included…
So if we take 800 photos, per 6 months…
That’s 1600 photos a year.
I can’t be printing out photos at that rate!
But yet, photos. Memories.
I kinda have to.
So despite all my catchup today, of putting printed out tangible photos into sleeves of photo albums, I think I’m going to have to start doing the photo book thing.
The photos are lasered or printed on the paper, so the pages don’t become bulky, and with the slim book design, they are smaller and easier to store.
I love having a record of photos taken. Sure I keep them digitally too, but there’s nothing like going back in time as you leaf through memories of the past…
So tell me. How do you store photos? Do you print, or make photo books? And if you do photo books, which ones are the best ones? Help me please!