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She looked at me with salt worn eyes
Tears of a thousand years
Her pain I could not imagine
Her years are old, she has lived too long
Old memories haunt her days, her nights
A plait crowns her beautiful grey hair
Her hand small and gentle, touch my face
Her smile almost invisible, too hard
Her pain holds it at bay, yet I remember
that her smile lit her eyes like night stars
She will forever be my beloved Oma…
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My thoughts take on a different colour
Depending on the words or who is speaking
A child can come across as pink and fluffy
Other times crazy, like a kaleidoscope
Full of wonders, possibilities
Speak too fast and the colours spar
Like a fuse about to blow
Angry voices bring dark storm clouds
Across windswept seas, lightning flashing
Lovers whispering on a park bench
In purple twists of blue swirling patterns
Joined in harmony, floating like smoke on the wind
When they kiss, I see a river of lights?
A festival of love
Bird song, a touch of stardust laced with moon beams
I care not that people think me a loon
This is how I see my world…
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Don’t
Touch it
Mother said.
It cost too much
So your father said
A cup of blue and gold.
How can I tell her I know?
Down the lane they’re two a penny
His lie has become the Holy Grail
one last gift to keep mother’s spirit bright…
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When I was seven, my mother bought me a black velvet dress for my birthday. It had a white collar with white cuffs on the small puff sleeves.
I felt like a princess, and couldn’t stop rubbing my hands over it. Mother told me to stop doing it, as I would ruin it.
My stepfather Joe said he would take me and my brothers to the park. As we left the house, my mother said not to give me any ice cream.
We played on the swings for a bit and then Joe brought my brother’s some ice cream.
I walked away, wondering if he would do as he was told. I didn’t go far, for I hoped I knew better than that and I was right. Joe handed me an ice cream, telling me to please be careful.
I said I would, but what child can eat an ice cream without getting it down themselves? Not me anyway. I kept rubbing at it, making it worse. The velvet was sticking up where I had rubbed it and there was no way to hide it.
All the way home, I wished Joe would run away with us, but he told me not to worry. He would say it was his fault, which in a way it was for buying it for me. I know that’s an unkind thought, but when we got home before he could say a word, mother ripped the dress from my body, leaving her nail marks on my back because the fabric was too hard to tear.
Joe got both barrels of her temper until I thought his ears would swell and drop off.
This memory has returned, because my daughter who lives next door, was playing a song I haven’t heard for a long time. It was one of my favourites, called Black Velvet.
It’s a funny old life isn’t it, the way old memories come back?
Anita Dawes 2018
Merlin has been sitting on the desk with me a lot lately, so when he turned up again this morning, I simply stroked his head and went back to what I was doing on the computer.
He moved a little closer and I began to wonder if something was wrong. I studied him for a while, then gently put my hand on his head. He looked bright enough and his head and ears felt cool, so I let my hand slide slowly down his back. He looked up at me with so much wisdom and intelligence in his amber eyes and at that moment, I experienced a deep communication between us as our eyes met.
It is usually difficult to see Merlin’s eyes properly, as they seem to vanish in his black face, but for once I could clearly see him looking at me.
He stretched his head towards me until our heads were almost touching. I was sure he had something to tell me, but all I felt was such overwhelming sadness. Was it just his sorrow, or my own somehow joining together?
“You okay, Merlin?”
I had the strongest feeling he wasn’t, as I knew old age was creeping up on him too. I had seen how many times he missed the couch when a jump failed, and how he often stumbled as he walked around. I found myself wondering if he ever thought about how much time he had left, as I often did. The thought that neither of us might not last much longer brought tears to my eyes.
He stayed with me for a while and I with him, sharing something very special.
Two old souls, emotionally communicating on some deeper level.
Well, I have been simplifying and streamlining like a mad woman. I have cut and pruned, deleted and unsubscribed, all those things and places that I thought were a good idea at the time, but somehow never got around to learning. They have all been weeded out.
There seems to be a strong gardening influence going on here, don’t you think? This is probably because after I finish spring cleaning the inside of my head and my office… there is a load more of the same to do outside in the garden!
All things considered, I don’t appear to have so many balls in the air now, and feel the better for it.
That was when something amazing happened.
Anita and I have long wanted to write a book together, but despite regular discussions, we never seemed to agree on anything. No change there then! This in itself is not unusual in this house, but I digress.
Something was mentioned and caught our interest, and as we continued to talk, we could see the magic beginning to grow into a great idea. I won’t say any more, but I have the feeling it could be amazing.
I honestly believe that everything we have learned, every failure and disappointment, even the pruning casualties this week, have all been leading us to this moment.
So, from having too many irons in the fire, we have added another one!
And then disaster struck!
The internet had been playing up, constantly buffering and crashing, but I was patient, thinking it would right itself. When several days passed without improvement, I decided to refresh Firefox, my browser. All this managed to achieve was the total loss of all my bookmarks and password recognition and no possible way of retrieving them that I could see.
By this time, I was thoroughly disgusted with my stupidity, so I changed browsers, returning to Internet Explorer, which always seemed to work well enough on my laptop.
But… by then everything was going from bad to worse, and I wanted to shoot myself. Nothing had really changed, and I didn’t like the layout on Int.Explorer. All I really wanted was to stop all the buffering and delays.
This is a classic example of my prowess or lack of it when it comes to computers. I had to stop for the day round about then, as my brain was showing signs of self-destruction.
The following day, my mind decided to work better, and I reinstated Firefox. I am still unable to get my stuff back, which means I will have to collect them all over again. But the buffering has now stopped, so that’s a small price to pay.
I cannot believe the mess I made, simply trying to make my life easier…
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Chinese whispers
From forked tongues are born
They fly like poison darts
Leaving damage in their wake
Lives destroyed, reputations shattered
Families broken,
Sticks and stones would hurt far less
Than whispered words, hardly spoken
I know these darts I feel their poison
My back a road map
To whispered words hardly spoken…
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This week I have been thinking about all the different kinds of love there are, and how many I have had the good fortune to have shared. Unfortunately, this also highlighted the ones I haven’t or made a complete hash of, but you can’t make an omelette without breaking eggs, right? At least I can’t.
I miss not knowing my dad, and I really wish I had never known my mum. (but that’s another story altogether!) Then there were two husbands one after the other that I’m glad I don’t miss in the slightest.
I was told once long ago that I have two brothers somewhere, and they are possibly who I miss the most. I watch Anita’s son and daughter sometimes and really envy their relationship. They do fight and argue sometimes, but they are always there for each other, instinctively knowing what each of them needs and offering it before the need to ask.
It would appear that missing things is one of the saddest aspects of growing old and I don’t care for it too much. I don’t want to spend any of the time I have left complaining about this and that, bemoaning what was and what could never be. My life has been what I could make out of it, good or bad, and I’m not really the kind of person who will waste any time worrying about all the ifs and maybe’s. What’s done, is done.
I was wondering what to write about this week, and then I started thinking about all the things I love now. (And I did need the reminder).
Which was a nice change from all the problems and mini-disasters that have been depressing my family and me of late and it lifted my mood considerably.
So much so, that when I ventured outdoors yesterday, battling against strong, chilly winds to run an errand, I began to notice things that I might not have seen last week. Mother Nature’s presence was everywhere, and I wondered if the weather would be kind and not ruin her efforts. But it was good to see them nonetheless, proving that Summer really can’t be far away after all.
Back to all the things I love at the moment…
I love having the strength of my family around me.
I love that I still have most of my health and some of my mental faculties. (More important than I ever knew it could be)
I love that I have learned so much this year, mainly from the people I meet online every day. (And I thank you all from the bottom of my heart)
I love that I am enjoying writing my books and loving every frustrating minute of it.
I love all the people (and I am sure you all know who you are) who, with their advice, patience and humour have inspired us so much.
Yesterday was my birthday and it didn’t rain, so I managed to visit our local pond/lake. I was desperately in need of a walk and some fresh air after all the editing.
The family gathered at our house with their arms full of flowers, and massive balloon in the shape of a butterfly dominated the scene. Such a beautiful balloon too, I will be sorry when it deflates and is no more.
We drove to the pond and parked at one end. The walk all around it is rather long, one of the reasons I wonder why they call it a pond, so we always walk halfway around and then stop for lunch at the waterside cafe. I had one of the best cheese and ham panini’s ever and ate it with our new baby on my lap. Barely two months old, she was fascinated by all the trees and ducks. I think she was eyeing my lunch too!
I could sit and watch the antics of the swans, geese and ducks all day, but dark clouds were beginning to gather, so we took off again to walk back to the car park on the other side of the pond. As we walked, we noticed that one of last years cygnets was following us. It was a little intimidating, as swans have a reputation for being anti social. This one, a huge lumbering beast out of the water, was hellbent on saying hello to anyone brave enough to stop and talk. This happened to be me, and when I extended a hand in friendship, he bit it. Now this should have hurt, for they have serratted bread knives in their mouths, but it was gentle and didn’t hurt a bit. I couldn’t help wondering why he was being so friendly and whether it was a good idea.
I hadn’t mentioned it, but I had seen the ravens watching the ducklings and knew what they were about. I prayed they would go away and not bring death to such a beautiful place. It would seem we cannot escape sadness, even on a glorious Spring walk…
