A week.

What a week it was! I did the presentation for new investigator’s. Suffered from the palpable relief of having done so, not to mention the memories that were stirred. The day before, I went into the laundry to do some washing. I peered up at the branches (yes, we have branches  in our laundry), over the bird’s homes on the wooden bench, and counted five little birds. One was missing, Rosie the budgie. I turned around, and saw her on the ground, in the corner. Her eyes were closed. It was a shock. You never really believe that a beloved pet  will die, even one’s of advanced age. Her partner, Cuddles, tweeted for her, longed for her. All the birds ended up in the office with me that day, needing to be close. It was a loss as real as any I have known. Final and unexpected. The day before the presentation. I couldn’t cry. Friday, I spent the day inside, and the tears came. Relief that the speech had been done and grief that my little bird had flown away.

Fete.
Fete.
Saturday, we had our school fete, a distraction of which I was grateful. Something else to concentrate on. It was a full day, a steamy hot event with lots to do. I was on baskets. I have always loved basket stalls, and my purchase of kind is the stuff of legend. A dear fellow at a school was appalled two years ago, seeing me lugging a mammoth box home around the corner, so he insisted on carrying them for me. There is something about the act of clustering similar trinkets together and wrapping them, finishing with a flourish of bows and curls. I have to say, after dealing with hundreds of them, I am a bit over it now.

The past two days, I have been unable to breathe properly. I know it has been the case for many. Too much smoke and not enough oxygen. Worries for loved ones caught in high-risk areas, worry for the volunteers. An unexpected turn of events this past week. Little bird’s hearts suddenly ceasing, bushfires breaking out. Extreme heat and danger. The remarkable thing is that we get through it. We continue to breathe. The tightness in our chests ease, the rains come, donations stream in. We witness astonishing acts of tenderness. We rebuild. We are all living in hope that the winds don’t live up to what is anticipated  tomorrow. If the rain comes and is hard and long, we shall collectively breathe much easier.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

A WordPress.com Website.

Up ↑

Girl Empowered

Sensible school combined with heart led personal development for tweens and teens.

SeventhRay 2035

Life, the Universe and Yourself

Grief To Life (n’ everything in between)

Walking through the journey of pain and loss, one day at a time, with purpose. Holding on to the hope of the joy that lies ahead.

Prawn and Sphincter

An enthralling nexus of depression & nonsense.

Blavatsky Theosophy Group UK

The Teachings of H. P. Blavatsky & The Masters

Kids, Cancer & Other Fun Stuff

My Life , My Kids, My Cancer - Uncut and Unsensored

Bobbi's Battle

The fight is on

Something So True

Express who you are, but never forget who you are!

The Blog Broad

A Diary of a Mad Woman, the Fumblings of a Fool

Sketches from Berlin

Berlin Stories, Poetry & etc. by M.P. Powers

Panida

Life & Endometriosis

Amazing Tangled Grace

A blog about my spiritual journey in the Lord Jesus Christ.

Autism Tanzanite

Autism Mum Speaking Out

My Eklektik Mama

Your Go-To for Eclectic Home-Schooling, Parenting, and More!

Every Small Voice

“In this life we cannot always do great things. But we can do small things with great love.” — Mother Theresa

the satori saga

travel blog

Schnippelboy

Ein Tagebuch unserer Alltagsküche-Leicht nachkochbar

%d bloggers like this: