Pinot, Bretzels, and Cathedrals

It’s 6 in the morning, I am in bed alone after Anton set off for the airport in a taxi.  He has to fly to the west (of France), for work for 3 days.  I want it to feel like it was just yesterday he drove off for a work trip,  instead of the 8 months that have passed, but its only because my heart is heavy and I am missing you all , and if I can recacpture parts of what life used to be,  maybe I will feel better.

Every time I have written here, I have remaimed positive and upbeat, for two reasons.

The first is that one of you showed me the way:  moving off to another country, (in your case a poverty stricken corrupt one) you cannot allow yourself to dwell on the challenges you face, but to remain grateful for what you do have, because if you dwell on those challenges, you will probably never be happy.  Thanks my darling friend,  your challenges are far greater than mine, and I appreciate your advice those few years ago.

The second reason I remain positive, is that in all honesty, I have no reason to be sad, or lonely, or lacking in anything.  I have a lovely roof over my head, in a relatively upmarket ‘quarter’ in a centuries old city, in Europe.  I don’t have to work to stretch our finances, although if I set my heart to it, I am sure I could find a job to allow us to buy expensive wine more often than once a year at the wine expo. We don’t have to pay for our girls to attend a school, and so the list goes on- I guess for all those stereotyped reasons we have all lost friends to other countries.

No, today this is about me, wallowing in a moat of self pity.  It will be have to be short lived, as pity doesn’t exist when you have a 6 and 3 year old that are on holiday, and don’t have  garden to go and make mud pies in, or do some play cooking on the lawn with bowls of rice and lentils  and jugs of water that can simply be swept off when its time to move on.

February has seen the birth of my second new nephew- I have 2 new nephews been born since we arrived here-how cool is that? What is not cool, is that I am missing out on meeting them, but that is nothing that I can do about now.

February also sees the packing up of Mum and Dads lives as they prepare to close a chapter, as does my brothers ‘family, who are starting off on a new, very big chapter of their lives  as they prepare to move to Netherby to become farmers .

Netherby House has been my home forever.  No matter where in the world I have been, and it really isnt that much of an impressive list, Netherby has always been that place  I have gone back to that hasn’t really changed.
Obviously it has: a security fence, a great big tractor shed, the sprawling vegetable garden was downscaled a decade ago, the chicken run was moved, the irrigation pivots, even Dad having a weeknd off now and then was a change to what I remember growing up.
But that we could drive down the very same driveway, around the eastern corner bedroom, almost knocking over the standard rose every time, in front of those great big french windows of the Family Room, and onto the back area, where once an ancient tree stood, but was thrown over in  freak whirlwind a few years ago, where the office is and the Landies are parked.
It is always here that Mum usually sets foot, with a kitchen cloth draped over her shoulder,  because its either tea time, or lunch time.  She always has a happy smile on her face, glad to see us.  Dad will surface soon after, often with a scowl, because something is not going according to plan, with a quick kiss hello and then disappear again,  but I know that soon it will be tea time, or lunch time, and he will return.
The room I have slept in since I was 7 will be neatly made up, always, and Moms bookshelf will once again be overflowing with wonderful books.  In the kitchen, the red kettle will either be furiosly bubbling,  or set on the side, and the old Aga will be there, as it has for the 36 years I can remember.  I know it has been there longer, but I am just not sure how long.  Teapots and cups have changed ove the years, but the tea has stayed the same.  Tea time, poured from an enamel pot mostly, but seldom is a tea bag dunked, taken at breakfast, mid morning, and in the evening.  (Also at 4:30 as the summer sun thinks about rising, but that is always Dads’ quiet time.)

However, with everything that I feel in my soul, my home is with Anton and my girls. Where ever we may be. And whenever we are next able to be in KZN, we will still drive down that road off the N3 at Howick, passed the golf course, the dotted farms, the sprawling suburbs that were once sqatter camps, the rural villages with their cattle grazing on dangerous corners. We will still get to see the iNhlosan, we will still try to free wheel down the hill from the Tembeni turn off, passing the police station, Melrose, Moths and ‘Rocky’s dam, all the way down to the Netherby turn off, (although I suspect, in any rental car we will afford, it is unlikely to happen). We will still be able to turn onto that familiar gravel road, that cracked the Mercedes sump while Mom did a very rapid about turn, rushing Dad back to hospital in 1995, the same little bridge that Dad had to carry us over so we could get to school in the floods of ’87, and the vehicles we owned in those days could not cross the raging waters flowing from Ronald, Helens’ and Rockys’ dams.
The hillside along the Netherby road looks very different these days, since the pine trees were felled, and Dad bought the piece and turned it to crop fields and grazing pastures. The old house on the hill doesn’t resemble the odd little pub that used to be there in the late 90’s, but still, whenever I am up there, with the sun drenching the Boston Main Road, the dams, the pivots, the cows, the shebeens, the ‘shop’, the old Wholesale and the Club, I wish for a simpler life, knowing well enough there is nothing simple about growing vegetables and preserving them if you want to make a living off it.
As we arrive at the top of the road, it splits off. Directly ahead, Graham and I used to walk up to, to join up with Colin and Heather, always minus our other sisters, to drink Frisco coffee and condense milk, and eat apples and brown bread sandwiches in our holidays. (Okay, that is a little embellishment). I wonder if Frankie, George, Harry and Wellbeloved jnr will ever do the same?
In my mind, I can see that golden field from the Oak tree corner. It rolls downwards, to the dam that Dad built when I was about 5 years old. In summer, the lower field is not brown gold, but as green as kikuya can get, and if the cows have not been in, the grass is thick and tangled. It is one of my favourite views, but I have so many.
It’s about here, that next time we are in Boston, we will slow down and turn off. When I was still a young child, the road to the Godolphin house was scary. The very tall gum trees that surrounded the house were eerie, and dark shadows covered the scrappy undergrowth. A seemingly neglected place, old cars and tractors were left there to rust away. The house itself was old, had plumbing that gave Dad headaches. The back veranda was so close to the gum trees, it scared me, for reasons I cannot explain.
Nowdays, the old tin house, with the north facing view of the dairy, Netherby House and everything beyond it, is no longer. Instead, my brother has built a lovely new house, still with the same view, but without the scary gum trees, and dodgy plumbing, for Mum and Dad to move into next month. And it will be where we will be sipping our cups of tea from next time we get an opportunity.

Dad, Mom, Graham and SJ, I know this will be much more of a challenge for you all than for me, and I wish you all the strength for it. Things are not going to be easy, but I know what you are collectively capable of, so success is inevitable.

Aside from these feelings of homesickness, there are other underlying emotions, but as I am Supermum this week, I had better apply the cape, turn the day on, starting with a coffee, and see what happens from there. I am going to attempt to bury the computer and tablet, or the temptation to let the girls wear pyjamas and watch dvds all day wil, be too great.

Love you and miss you all, so much.

Xxx