Categories
Life

Giving Back

What did I actually do for others, apart from give them my love? What did I do to help lift their burdens, to help them maximise their true life potential by easing (or helping to expand) life for them in some small, practical way. There were openings and offerings on occasion, of course, but I never did figure out how practical kindness worked when it was outwards facing and flowing.

The practical part was where I tended to get stuck. I’d have a beautiful, heart-warming idea and then I would find some excuse not to follow through. Partly it was because I was (cough: am) a massive procrastinator. More often than not, though, my practical kindness was thwarted by selfishness.

During the time I was separated from my husband — during the very little money part, during the very little time part, during the depression part — I found myself needing to accept the help of others, really for the very first time in my adult life. And, finally, I learned the importance of being there for others.

I did my Pop’s garden, today—I’m ashamed to say, for the first time (usually I’d leave it to my aunties and uncles). But today, I bought the most beautiful statue I could find at the gardening shop, plonked her in the garden bed by the back door, and pruned until a lovely halo of flowers surrounded her soft-grey concrete. Here I was using my kindness and creativity to practically help my most cherished humans. And I knew it was right.

Usually I’d just sit there on family visits, and we’d have tea, and we’d chatter and laugh, and I’d go home feeling beautifully fulfilled and very much loved. Quite selfishly fulfilled, I would say, looking back, now. Today, though, I gave back. And it truly did feel like I had come home.

My Nan was the gardener of the family. She had the softest, kindest heart, with a great big burst of generosity and passion coursing through her soul, and she loved that garden just as much as she loved her family. Roses were her favourite. And now they are mine, probably because they were hers.

So I’m going to make it my mission (well, one of them) to put all my heart and soul into that garden. For my family. Because I love them so dearly, and because they’ve given and given and given to me, in more ways than I’d ever be able to recall.

It’s my turn, now, to give back.

So I will.

Photo by Maksim Goncharenok on Pexels.com
Categories
The Darling Blog Of May

Darling Day 11. Nan

She was just one of those people everyone loved.

Darling, through and through.

When she was good, she was like an orange wind, laced with mint and strawberry sweet. She was kind, but not in a: ‘Hi, how are you?’ sort of way. She was kind in a: ‘Let me hold your soul for you,’ sort of way.

Of course, she had her demonic side, as we all do from time to time on the ever puffing human train. But her darling side far outweighed any dark side of the moon nonsense circling her sky.

She was the first non-doctor to hold my tiny human body, before even my Mum.

She was also the first to hold my soul, and really truly keep it home.

And so today’s darling day is for you, Nan.

I hope you look down and smile every time I do the ‘Nan dance’ on the porch or cartwheel alongside the car to wish my babies the happiest of goodbyes. I learned all of that silly beautiful from you. And as long as I live, I’ll be proud that most of me is made from the love you gave me.

I now share that love with the world, because it’s the only thing that feels truly right to me—so thank you, Nan.

Thank you for teaching me what true love is.

Always in my heart, sweet lady.

Every darling day of mine.

pensive grandmother with granddaughter having interesting conversation while cooking together in light modern kitchen
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com

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Categories
Life

Held

Tonight I miss my childhood.

I miss the way my Nan dipped onto to her knees and told me how precious I was to her. With her entire body, especially her eyes.

I miss the way my Mum held me when I cried. I miss the feeling of our two aches melting into one, and somehow just knowing that was a beautiful, beautiful thing.

I’ve never missed the safe pieces of childhood before—at least not consciously, and I’d imagine it’s because most adults become adults and assume that the word adult means: ‘safe enough’ and ‘responsible enough’.

Well, I’m here to tell you…no.

Actually no.

I believe that adult means: whoever and whatever you are, when you are it.

And what I am right now, is aching for the child I once was, and the beautiful world of love that enveloped her during her younger years.

I ache to be emotionally held. Because that’s how it all began for me.

Of course I miss it.

I’ve learned to meditate and open my heart, and thank-goodness for that because it fills me with all the lovely things, including the beautiful feeling of being held in the way I so often feel I need to be.

Still, I miss the feeling of being emotionally held by another, without judgement.

Without judgement.

I just do, I miss it.

And so I miss my childhood.

I also know it’s okay that I miss my childhood.

That part, I think, might be the beautiful silver lining of this grey story.

woman and little girl in black long sleeve shirt and black pants
Photo by Gustavo Fring on Pexels.com

Categories
Life

Old Man

The old man rolls out of bed at 9:45am, his silver hair dishevelled, his eyes at the watery edge of blue.

He finds the girl on the couch.

He says, ‘I just got back from my run and swim. I hope I didn’t wake you when I got up.’

The girl smiles into her coffee, and knows that her world is perfect.

And then some.