Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

My Garden Home

If light though the trees is your wish,

it is my wish, too.

If a meadow awash with eerie shadow

calls you,

I am gone.

Already beyond the boxwoods

and sweet peas

of my garden, home.

Day 24. Somewhere over the rainbow.

Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

Family

I wear my heart on my sleeve. I always have, I always will.

With my family here by my side on this, the great Tasmanian adventure, I’m pretty much bathing in love hearts…which is the loveliest.

That’s the thing about family.

They feel like home.

And at home I am free to be who I am, all the way ’round, back out the other side again.

It is the loveliest thing.

And they sometimes roll their eyes at my love hearty ways, and they probably think I’m a little odd, at times.

But there is always unconditional love to be found.

That’s the thing about family.

That’s the thing that fills my joy pots to overflowing.

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Day 15. Home sweet home away from home.
Categories
Peaches In The Darling Sun

I Am Home

I’ve lit a candle.

Classical piano plays.

I have coffee sitting beside me.

I am home.

Oh my goodness I am home.

The world is busy. The noise, sometimes far too loud.

But there is such beauty and softness in the quiet places.

Let the quiet places sing to your heart, always.

It is my dearest wish for you.

My dearest wish.

All my love.

xx Brooke

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Day 11. The greatest love of all. Home.
Categories
Life

Hermit

I always thought I’d become a hermit. I saw myself in the bush somewhere, surrounded by breaking sticks and bark for miles and I was home there. No one to argue with. No one to feel too much of.

I’m not far off what I thought I’d be, I realised the other day.

I have only a few good friends.

I enjoy only the shortest get togethers before I search for the nearest exit. I like it this way. A little bit of a lot, is better than a lot of a little bit, to me.

Not that I don’t like people, quite the opposite. People can be miraculous when they allow themselves to be. When they even know the miraculous is available to them…and that’s where the hermit thing comes in. Not many people around here know about miraculous humanity.

And so I’m not a hermit, not really.

But then, I am in a way.

I always will be, but for the few I choose carefully.

And I do choose. Carefully.

And usually with love.

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Categories
Poetry

I Am There

Here on this hillside,

this sweet patch of earth,

I have become.

And there is no further to go,

there are no wings to grow,

I am there.

I am there.

Categories
Poetry

A Darling Home

An open heart.

A darling home

for my children,

my love,

and me.

Categories
Poetry

Forever Home

Sorrow is quiet and soft.

How strange, that during the saddest times, the quiet is the loudest voice of all.

Tonight, I send my voice into the stillness.

To honour the love and the sorrow that lingers when we lose our most precious hearts.

Quiet, the place where unconditional love floats free.

Peace. Our soft and gentle, forever home.

Categories
Life

Life Beyond

I know when I am talking to a persons soul.

There is no feeling wider, deeper, more beautiful than to sit beside a friend and know them beyond their human story.

The vastness of them.

The invisible wonder; felt, yet unseen.

No feeling I’d rather choose. No place I’d rather be.

I try not to reject the aspects of humanity that never can reach the boundless home our spirits connect in: the place I find the shine in peoples eyes.

But how could life without that shine ever compare to the deep blue sea of a wide open soul?

I am addicted to my souls home.

I miss it, and my soul people, when I am not there.

Life is beyond anything I could ever think to complain about, though.

Life is beyond anything I could ever think.

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Categories
Motherhood

A Beautiful Mess

This messy home,

an incorrectness:

something broken

needing to be fixed.

The wars we rage inside ourselves

just to keep control,

to maintain clean,

to maintain ‘right.’

It is a mistake of the eyes

and the heart

not to see the true beauty

of a home:

messy, chaotic,

beautifully lived in.

These crumbs on the floor.

They are not bad or wrong.

They are a reminder of my children.

How lucky I am to have them at all.

This beautiful mess a child does bring.

Mess is life.

And though a pristine home

is a gift to be treasured,

so is this mess.

This mess of sweet

imperfect

life.

Categories
Life

Home Alone

I’m home alone, tonight.

And when I say I’m home alone, I mean my children are here, my husband is not.

And when I say my husband is not, I mean I’ve been keeping a secret, and that secret is that for some weeks now, my husband has been my husband again. Married. All the way through, once more.

In other words, our year and a bit apart has come to a close.

We’ve decided to stay together.

When my heart woke and began to glow for everything and everyone, it became apparent that the love between me and my very own body-mind-heart-soul was the only love I’d ever truly need. And so why choose a new man who could never be perfect. Why not choose the same old lovely one, who I could work with, grow with, be with, knowing I am fully loved and beautifully cared for. Imperfect, he is. Just like his wildly creative, highly emotional wife.

This feeling that the sun shines from my heart: it’s shown me that no man will ever be perfect, no relationship completely shiny. As I lay alone all those many nights (often loving the single life, often really quite lonely, actually, and aching for the parts of our old life that were no longer available to my children in quite the same way) I wondered if the shine I sometimes saw in my eyes meant that I was home. And if so, was I now solid enough within my new found self to go back to my other home?

Home: the place my babies wouldn’t miss their Dad.

Home: the place that held me, knew me, loved me.

Home. To the guy I’d forgotten I loved so dearly.

Until I remembered, again.

I’m home now.

I’m home now.

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