laying bare // i . can . breathe

Honestly, it’s a sigh of relief.

It’s the exhale of air from deep within, which has been hanging in your chest – and weighing on your mind - for far too long now.

It’s the feeling of breathlessness and being able to breathe again, all in one.

I feel breathless, yet a can breathe.

I can breathe.

I.  Can. Breathe.

I can breathe, yet I can’t weep.

To let that first tear fall is almost too much.

Too much, too soon.

Too real.

And I can feel it again – that tense and tight movement in my chest, willing me to hold my breath.

To hold it, so I don’t weep.

Don’t weep.

It’s all I tell myself.

Don’t weep. Do not weep.

But you take that breath.

And you weep.

Your mind is overcome by the emotion of it all, so you just weep.

The body shakes, the heart breaks.

And then, you breathe.

***

It was the phone call that I knew was coming. "It could be days or weeks", but I knew it would be here before too long. 

And it's funny, because you almost seem to know that this is the call. When I saw the screen light up, I just knew.

Being semi-estranged from your family does that, I guess. You assume that most news, is bad news. 

Perhaps, 6:30am was really the giveaway? 

Shirley Alison Thomson, you were one special lady. 

Strong-willed and opinionated you wore the pant(y-hose) for sure, and no one looked better in coral lipstick than you.

Though that terrorizing, fucking nasty disease was much more than you deserved, I will hold dear those memories of one splendidly-batty old woman - who stashed (and forgot about) several McDonald's Whipped Butters in her purse, almost had had us headed on an express train for Hervey Bay, and swore that she was "not old enough to have children" at her husbands 70th Birthday party. Your mind was unkind to you, and perhaps we could have done more. Understood more, sympathised more. 

Now, you suffer no more.

So, here we are. One less in this clan. 

Almost 3 years to the day, since we lost Papa,

your darling gentleman. 

May you be at peace. Together again.

Farewell, Autumn

Autumn, it is foreign for me to admit, I adored thee.

I have wholeheartedly embraced you for what you are; gold & ruby hued, with blue-grey light & a still, fresh air. I have boiled a pot of tea in your early morn, lit a candle upon your dusk.
You have blessed us with your pressence.

I can honestly say, I will miss you, Autumn.



More Autumnal Reading
Seasonal Treasures  
Autumnal Inspirations  
So, is this how it's going to be, Autumn?

Saying "goodbye"

Goodbye's are weird. Well, I  find goodbye's to be weird. I become weird, and awkward, and at times sad, or awkwardly sad when it's not really sad, and then there's the times when I should be sad but I can't muster any emotion, or the times when I'm even happy to say goodbye, which becomes weird and awkward again because it's not the happy kind of goodbye. You get it, right? 

In short, I'm not good at the "goodbye". 

On Sunday, we had a sad/awkward/happy/sad again/relieved-that-it's-finally-over kind of goodbye.

It was hard, but it was always going to happen. 

We said goodbye to the kittens. 

These rumbley-tumbley, soft and cuddly, blue-eyed, little kittens that have been a part of our lives for the past 11 weeks. From two tiny kittens, completely dependant upon their mama (Appa) to these boisterous, meowing, stalking and pouncing, getting in/on/under everything creatures that never ceased to make our day incredibly entertaining/frustrating/expensive/exhausting, but most of all, loved.

They became such a part of our household, that it was hard to remember how things were before...and we always knew this day would come, we'd just hoped it wouldn't come so fast. 

It was a rough day. It started with an argument and finished with Pancake Manor.

Neither of us had talked much about how we were feeling about giving the kittens away, rather busying ourselves with buying toys, blankets and food for them, and planing the long trip up the coast to their new home. We were snippy at each other all morning, until it all erupted in an emotion filled yelling match, which led to me storming off in a huff and Sam finding me bare-bummed and crying on the toilet. We couldn't help but laugh at ourselves. We finally chatted about our sadness of the impending goodbye, then dressed, packed the car, plugged in the iPod and set off. 

The trip was filled with sing alongs, kitten cries and beautiful scenery. When we finally reached the coast, the salty air was welcoming and the sunshine made my heart happy. It made our parting a little easier. We played a little and said our goodbyes. We were happy. They were in a loving home. 

On the way up the mountain to home, we stopped at the Pancake Manor in Ipswich. 

Dessert for dinner :)

 *all photos by Sam

We were exhausted, emotionally and physically, as we pulled into the drive at 10pm. We were greeted at the door by a very happy dog and two meowing cats, and we realised that this is our family, in our home. 

 //"Man's feelings are always purest and most glowing in the hour of meeting and of farewell."// Jean Paul Richter//

PS. I have to apologise for breaking my promise to write on Monday...it's now 1am on Thursday :( Note to self: Must be more present!

PPS. The routine is going okay. We've been walking Tig regularly (she even sits at the back door at 5pm, patiently waiting.) I haven't been getting up much earlier than usual (maybe because I'm still awake at 1am?) or drinking much tea, but being more active is a step in the right direction. 

I've just got to change my routine a little at a time.

AND! If you happen to stumble across here this month, head over here to enter the Sole Society/The Beetle Shack giveaway! Good Luck! x