Finally. I’m ready. To open the letter.
It’s a chicken I must thank for my new-found strength. Yep, that’s right. A chicken.
I realise now (thanks to this chicken), there’s no point hiding. Shit’s gonna shit on you eventually… if it feels like it.
It has on me before.
***
The letter arrived on a perfect day.
The lead up to Christmas is the perfect time to whip out some fun kids’ craft activities. It gets your little ones excited for the big day and is a thrifty way to update your festive decorations. Check out the simple ideas below. They might not be fancy, but they’re filled with love and I’m proud that my children made them. Plus, I didn’t have to buy a thing!
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Monday-dreaming of a time
When clouds are empty
And the evening bright
I sure will miss the stormy morning
Sent to make me Sunday-strong
I cant decide though…
Is it better
To be whole or free?
Two girls in boy-leg bikinis burst side by side from the milk-bar. Clutching icy bottles of soda pop, they run recklessly across the road towards the music. The wind has tousled their carefully styled hairdos from that morning, and their faces are glowing from exertion. One goal in mind, thirst now quenched, they long to be back in the ‘Snake Pit’.
A long time ago, a fortune teller told me I would always be drawn to the ocean. At the time, I didn’t believe her. You see, not only am I a terrible swimmer, I’m absolutely petrified of sharks. If even a stray piece of seaweed brushes my legs when I’m paddling, I run screaming for the hills.
Every time I take my girls to kindy, we stop in the laneway to pick flowers. I’m surprised the bushes aren’t bare by the end of the month, but no matter how many times I tell them to leave the flowers on the plants, they pick ‘em anyway. But it’s actually my fault, you see. Because these poor blooms aren’t ordinary blossoms. One bush produces ‘pussy tails’ that, when picked and thrown over your shoulder, grant your wish by the end of the day. Another plant grows ‘fairy flowers’, and when you put them in your pocket, well… the fairies can now find you, of course.
“That dude’s playing the bagpipes again,” I said to my husband once the girls were in bed. Lately, we often hear him playing in the evenings.
“That terrible noise should be banned,” he replied.
Agreed, it wasn’t the most tuneful rendition of ‘Scotland the Brave,’ but I didn’t share my husband’s sentiment. “Well, I guess he’s got to practice SOME time.”
“But why?” My husband rolled his eyes. “No-one EVER wants to listen to the bagpipes!”
I’ve started this year full of gusto for writing. I’ve found a new direction, new ideas and a sense of purpose. The year ahead stretches away in front of me, like brand new sparkly pages, and I’m feeling excited about what I can fill them with.
If you are a parent, you will know how insanely difficult it is to be separated from your newborn baby — especially for the first time.
When my first daughter, Eve, was eight weeks old, she had a sleepover at her Ouma’s. I hadn’t been sleeping very well, and it was suggested that a night off from the feeding, pumping and nappy changes might be beneficial to my state of mind. I would have a bath, a wine, a chat to my husband about something other than babies; we would play music really loud, and catch up on some uninterrupted sleep. It would be something different to the usual routine — feeding baby until she went to sleep, watching the little cherub sleeping (breathing!) in her cot, waiting for her to wake up for the next feed or settle.
It didn’t turn out as planned.
These last few weeks, my life has mirrored my book. I’ve been drowning in sticky plot holes, and it’s been hard to stay afloat.
But just as I’m confident that I will — somehow — resolve the ending of my novel, I’m also getting stronger at fighting those negative thoughts that have recently sought to drown me.
Although, I’m not yet ready to talk about what has unsettled me so profoundly, I’m going to use my re-ignited positivity to look at ways to resolve those sticky moments we encounter both in life and fiction.
For I’m close enough to see the light ahead, and I’m going for it. Here are three ways that are helping me to get there:
Eleanor Mulder 