two weeks ago..

september 1st 2011
spring in the blossom over the fence
a light blue sky at 5 in the afternoon
Leonard Cohen by my side

two weeks ago today
Tanya 36
a woman from the next street
walked over the railway tracks
into the path of a train
bound for the city
just on lunchtime
just like that
leaving
seven children
and a husband
to carry her broken hallelujah..





just found this.. i wrote it in 2009..

How do I remember her?   Some years ago she lived across the road.  A tall girl, stalky if I had to describe the way she looked.  I noticed there were a lot of kids and they were younger than ours or seemed to be.  It was hard to know how many there were. They were quiet, I remember that.  Our kids would be out in the street kicking the footy or riding bikes or skateboards and the kids across the road hardly made any noise.  The house had been rented out for as long as we’d been living here and people had come and gone.  In the early years Peter would go over with a couple of cakes as a welcome to whoever had just moved in.. I think he would have gone over to say hello to them but I can’t be sure.      So when I went over to say hello, they’d been there for a while and I’d had time to observe her a little. I noticed she always walked to the shops and brought the groceries home in plastic bags.  She’d go up late in the afternoon.  She looked more like a big sister going out to get a few things after school than a mother.

earlier today I read a poem online
Things I Say To Myself While Hanging Out Laundry
(a woman hangs out sheets and meditates
on ants and Albert Einstein)

an hour later I went out with the clothes basket

no wind
shed door wide open
the soggy lawn

towels and sheets,
shirts and pjs
I'd just finished  
3 men's hankies peg peg peg
3 grey dog tails limp in the air
when a bird started up
in the yard next door
over the fence in  a leafless tree
tangle of  branches
network of buds
three brown birds
cleaning beaks,
shucking off dust from feathers
and one making music
little chest throbbing
doubling and trebling
one bell, two bells
stroking the air

On a grey afternoon
the song of that bird
called up a memory
my mother stringing the line
with nappies and bunny-rugs,
jumpers and school socks,
and whistling while she pegged.

A nine year old sitting on the stone step
at the back door
and mum winding up the line
and filling the old blue basin
under the plum tree..

in the eyes of love..

a month ago today my daughter Pip was married.. to an angel of a man..
how can I tell you how wonderful the wedding was?

for now- for one reason and another - this will have to do...

ISN'T SHE LOVELY?!
 and thank you Chris..

sunday morning coming down..

if at a time and date to come I have to give an account of self.. this is what I'll say for today.

I woke about 8 or was it 9?   the bed was warm but I was alone so I rolled over and found the radio on the bedside table and wiggled my fingers down the side until the dial went on.. the news had just started.. I heard that a suicide bomber had caused 30 people to die in a maternity hospital ward somewhere in Afghanistan..    just like that.. on a Sunday morning in a bedroom in Victoria, Australia I lay listening to the pictures inside those words ... mothers and babies and nurses and doctors and cleaners and probably fathers and sisters and brothers and aunts and uncles and grandparents... were now, right now all blown up and dead in a broken down room in a broken down country a long way from heaven and closer to hell than anyone on earth could possibly imagine..

the rest of the day is history..

standin' in the sun darlin'....

I play Astral Weeks all day long and think of her. I send out a link to the video her brother has taken, complete with the music from the wedding ceremony and find myself watching it over and over.. each time I send it out to a sister or a niece, I press the white arrow at the side and let the images roll once more. She's radiant!!   texts my niece and I look at that word and see her face lit by happiness and spilling out like sunlight all across the room...




Does it matter what I write? For a week now I've been in a state of still, quiet happiness.. from the weeks leading up to Saturday June 11th to the days that followed all I could do -still do!- was think about the two of them and picture it all and think about how lucky she is he is and we are to be part of this great love..



I'll write about being her mother and being part of this time in her life.. walking with her along Sydney Road looking for the dress.. seeing her in it on that very first day.. the little shopgirl Clara with the stud just above her lip..dreamy Clara who brought in a georgette piece to slip over Pip's shoulder when she thought she couldn't wear a strapless dress.. how she came round over time..how I saw something gleaming in Clara's eyes when Pip stood on the dais and looked at herself dressed as a bride..then Pip smiled at me... how that was the moment .. that was it .. the shining moment...




#

how do you feel?

I went to the gallery at the top of our old street with my Mum a couple of weeks back.. just before the wedding.  .. Once the Morwell Town hall- for a period it doubled as the town library - it is now owned  by  Arts Victoria who run it as the Latrobe Regional Gallery ..  Funny how the room where I used to wander around wooden shelves looking for Enid Blyton books is now the place I go to with my 93 year old Mum.

The gallery's one of her favourite spots.

We have a coffee in the cafe and just as we're leaving, the woman in charge  points us in the direction of the room opposite.. You might like that she says.. In we go, Mum holding onto my arm and me conscious of how unsteady she is on her feet.. I notice how thin her ankles are  ..  Just inside the door an installation's been set up.. There are tiny post-it style notes covering much of a sidewall that's designed as a work-in-progress..  How do you feel?  is the title the artist has given the project... We're encouraged to pick a rubber stamp, press it on an ink pad,  print it on a white note and then write about how we feel  ..Mum's sight is poor but she manages to sign her name in the corner and while i'm stamping my slip I can see she's also written something in the tiny space above the butterfly stamp

                                   fine

I pin our notes on the wall - making sure hers is above the rest and wrap her arm inside mine.  We go on our way.

you will come back (you know you will!)
life ebbs and flows
you float
you swim
you find your feet
again..

night thoughts..

Life gets better
Never give up
Green is the best colour in the world
Blue comes second
Be kind
Learn as much as you can about everything
People teach you in the way that they live
You can always say sorry
Keep going
Life is a daily prayer
A mother's love is so important all through your life
Things happen
Listening is a gift
Love is a lot of things
When you're calm you're in control
Good friends never leave you
The tide comes in and the tide goes out
Little children are precious companions
You are stronger than you think
A cold apple tastes delicious
A cow's udder is a lovely place to tuck your head into
Irish music is the sound of green
Thoughts come and go
Fear passes through you if you keep calm
Love gives you energy
Lovely is one of  my favourite words
God is everywhere
Skin on skin is the most comforting way to go to sleep
Grief is never really over
Curious things happen that connect this world to the next
I will always remember my sister
Writing is a way through
Balance is so important
Jesus was a God-send
Reading takes you everywhere
Daisies are divine
Love-making is lovely
Touch is wonderful
Smiling is a gift
Humour is very good for you
A Jack Russell is a marvellous breed of dog
I like the sound of a train at night
Mary Mckillop was a strong woman
Hope springs eternal is one of my favourite mottoes
You can never have enough love
Old friends are your treasures
My dad loved me and I'm glad he told me when I was young
I could be a lot better at a lot of things
Every day is a miracle
Life is a lot of mystery
Things work out
Hearts are always trumps!