Helloooooo, and a Happy Friday to you all out there today! I hope that all is well with you- I am sorry if it has been a while since I was in touch with you personally, I feel like I should know what you’ve been up to, what’s making you smile, and what is giving you a headache- imminent births, sad anniversaries, exciting holidays, new-borns keeping you busy, maybe moving houses? But I am thinking of you, and am always available to chat if you need to bend an ear.
Anyway, as you can see, I am more upbeat than normal this morning. I’m not 100% sure why- its a day much the same as any other. I was able to make a banana bread this morning with vrot bananas, and quite out of character, I whipped it up while the girls were eating breakfast and getting ready for school. It helps that I was still in my pj’s, and Anton drove the girls to school again this morning. It has been a very. wet. week. A very. very wet. week. The canals have barely ceased to run a brown murky colour, I have a awful yellow raincoat that is constantly shoved in my handbag, I have gumboots lined up at my front door and my phones’ weather app could possibly be the culprit for the drained battery…
It has rained every day this week. It has poured with rain after dark, in the early hours of the morning. There has even been thunder and lightning reminiscent of home. Each morning the sun has risen to clear skies, only to disappear behind the grey rain clouds as my day approaches the school lunch run. And I have to fill my hands with umbrellas and bags of gumboots. I have stood outside Alexs’ school in the dripping rain, only to have the sun start shining again as we walk into our house for lunch. We have even had gusting winds that have ripped down some small trees and brought an onslaught of hailstones. Again. Its the third hail storm in 3 weeks, ans I cant help but get the feeling that the French are a little nonplussed. Between you and me, these little hailstones are very mediocre- they’re like slush puppy ice, and once the hail stops to bring in some more rain, they melt more quickly than me when mon petite monstre says “I love you more than to the sun and back Mom”.
Our random weather aside, it is beginning to dawn on me that we are really and truly heading to a South African winter soon. In just a little longer than 2 weeks time, we are departing the season of the long day, the hope of a hot sunny summer and we arrive on your shores on July 5th. Yoh. It really is taking an effort to get my head around it. My Dad was messaging me last night from the old farmhouse where he was baby sitting (ah, *bless* !) and he mentioned he was getting colder by the minute. I am not really ready for another winter.
And do you know what else I am not really ready for? Actually being in South Africa. I have had some time to think about it this week, and I am a little weary of it. Not for the whole violent crime aspect, but because the social unrest has been far-reaching this year, and I want to be able to be home, and be myself, but if I take into heart what has been written since new-world racism rocketed in January (with every good reason), I will need to be aware of every aspect of how I act and what language my body talks. Can I get away with just being myself, or will I have to be aware of the image I throw out? I know that this is a bit heavy for a Friday, but you cannot deny the need to look within our lives and question stuff.
Obviously, there is something else to what I am feeling, and it is this:
I am not sure I am ready to drive down the Netherby road and walk into the Goldolphin house knowing that Mom won’t be there. This time last year I genuinely figured that it wouldn’t be an issue. This time last year, I had come to terms with the fact that Mom was gone and that Godolphin was the seat of my Dads life. But in the rawness of those days, it was easy to think that. I was there when it all fell apart. I have visions of the hospital bed in Mums bedroom. Of it gone. Of cleaning out her cupboard. Of emptying her medicine cabinet of the hundreds of bottles of nasal spray, and handing them back to the family pharmacist while reading the complex of emotions on his face.
Will the cushions on the couch be tattered? Will the bathrooms have Savlon soap bars, or will there be Body Shop liquid soap? Will there be a bottle of hand moisturiser above the kitchen sink? Will there be fancy stationery in the office for the girls to pretend being secretaries with? If I want to bake, will there be any sugar, any baking powder, and pecan nuts? Do you think I will be able to walk out to gather fresh herbs when I cook the Sunday Roast?
Oh shit.
I’m sorry. I’m sorry for crashing this party. I have given a voice to something that has not actually surfaced properly, and it has spilled over quite unfortunately.
I read something last week, a blog post entitled 7 Things No One Told Me About Grief. The very first Thing was this: grief has no concept of time. It has no ‘shelf life’, no expiration date, and it will always come, and come back, whether it’s been a day, a week, a month, a year or even a decade.
There it is my dear friends. We are heading home during our upcoming very long summer holiday. I suspect I am looking for as many distractions that you will allow me. I am definitely looking forward to eating some freshly braai’d South African meat fresh. In preparation for this aspect, Anton and I have been watching the Ultimate Braai Master with Justin Bonello on the Travel Channel that we access. I’m slowing re-developing my need for Savannas at sunset, a juicy rump steak fresh from the white-hot coals and piping hot potatoes smoked over those coals topped with sour cream. Next week I will start packing- ski jackets for the farm, cozzies for the beach maybe, plakkies for the Highveld, chocolates for Antons family, bottles of bubbles for my sisters, coffee for my Dad (although I may just arrange a pack of Terbadore to be delivered to him).I am flying alone with the girls so think of me on that SAA flight… We will be joined by Anton after 3 weeks, and we will spend a fair bit of time between KZN and Gauteng. Unfortunately we wont get to Cape Town or other parts of SA, but it is what it is!
On that note, the time is nigh for the rain to begin falling as I am heading out to collect the girls for lunch.
I think this will be my only post this month- between now and 2 weeks time I think I have a fair bit to organise, but you know how to get in touch with me until then, and I will hopefully have a number available to me when we arrive.
Until then,
All my love and hugs to you all,
Moi,
Xxx
Pinot, Bretzels, and Cathedrals 