Characters on Public Transport


I like to take public transport whenever I can. Not only is it better for the environment, but I find that my day is uplifted when I engage with strangers.

Over the years, I have caught ferries, trains and buses with a litany of characters, all of whom taught me a great deal.

There was Dawn, resplendant  with her toothless grin, colourful dress sense and fascinators. She befriended me when my daughter was a baby, and was my companion on many a bus adventure. She would borrow money, and return it to my letterbox as soon as she could. I remember one time at the bus stop, she proudly showed me what she had gotten on sale from the chemist shop. There was makeup, but also a tube of Vagisil. When she pulled it out of its container, the man next to us on the seat was noticeably alarmed, and more so when this older lady went into great detail about she and her husband’s sex life! “My poor old vag!” she shrieked, then roared with laughter. I was taken aback when I saw a parcel in my letterbox, wrapped in a bag from the chemist’s. I prayed that she wasn’t sharing her tube of Vagisil with me, and was greatly relieved when it turned out to be a bottle of perfume! It was around this time that she invited me to a party at her place for her birthday. I was touched by her invitation, and dutifully arrived at kick-off. I rapped on her door, and her husband gruffly called out to “come in!” I did as he asked, only to find him sitting on the toilet with the door open, his trousers around his ankles! I asked after Dawn, and he said he didn’t know anything about a party, and that she was down the street, drinking beer and playing the polkies. I made a hasty exit, I can assure you! She passed away a few years ago, and many folk she’d met on the bus came to pay their respects.

There was another lady, Jean, whom I met during an hour-long ride to our local hospital. She was in her 80’s and volunteered there, taking the trip a few times a week. It kept her active and agile, she said. After her shift, she would walk for kilometres to keep her bones healthy and her mind sharp.

I met a woman in her 90’s, who’d been a dancer at the Trocadero in Sydney, over seventy years ago. She was quite well known back then, she assured me. She still had the composure and essence of a showgirl.

I met men who were widowers, and wrote instructions as to how to prepare easy and nutritious meals for themselves. I learned about their partner’s, and about their life together. Unforgettable stories of love conquering all. Even death itself couldn’t destroy the legacy of the life they’d shared.

I’ve chatted to teenagers, and taken notes (or should have), as to what music and fashion is in, and what their thoughts are on certain issues. It is always enlightening.

Today I met a dear lady, Madeline, who was waiting at the stop to get home. Radiant in a purple dress and glasses, she held an electric-blue walking stick. She is on the public system’s waiting list for further surgery, and in a lot of pain. This little Italian women told me of her family, and her place out at Orangeville, where she grows all her own vegetables and fruit. I could almost taste the tomatoes, as she described serving them with balsamic vinegar and basil leaves for lunch.

I have met performers, who entertained a carriage full of weary train travellers. There is nothing a performer likes better than a captive audience. My daughter practiced crying on queu in crowded trains for her drama class. It’s a great training ground for a career in the arts! I have been captivated by a songstress singing opera, and young men singing spiritual’s.

Last weekend, I travelled with two mothers on the train. One mum brings her daughter to a class in Sydney each Saturday from Bathurst, and the other brings her teen from the Central coast! Huge dedication from these mums, and quite inspiring. They would do anything to fulfil their child’s passion. As a parent, there is nothing quite like the joy of your child finding something that feeds their soul. Lunches and snacks are packed, as are books. They told me that it’s a luxury to be able to daydream whilst looking out the window, or have a nap after a busy week at work. It is indeed a gift, to be able to slow down for those precious hours and connect with their child. To just be, instead of do.

I have sat with new (and exhausted) parents and their babies, frail travellers, heartbroken lovers, the homeless and those in business suits. I have made eye contact with a reluctant girl who just wanted to disappear, and also those whom have wanted to be seen.  At the end of the day, I guess we all want to be visible. To have courtesy extended to us, and have our stories heard. We all crave a smile and kind word. Public transport allows us the opportunity to have an impact on a stranger’s life. We may turn their day around with our actions. Every where I go, I look for the Dawn’s; those with raucous laughs and fabulous tales. I also search for the recalcitrant, the lonely and sad. People are complex… People are amazing. Life is hard at times. We need each other. A community can come into being on a train carriage or bus. Community can be brought to life on a ferry. Every journey is an opportunity for connection.

Letter to a Teenager


Hey there,

I tried to bury my teenage years, but my wild and wonderful youth refused to be forgotten. For that, I am grateful, as I have some things to share with you. Or rather, she does.

I respect your need for space and privacy. I recall what it was like to need a release in the form of a journal, and promise that it shall always remain private, for your eyes only. We all need a room of our own, including a mansion within ourselves, where we can let go of artifice, and connect to our innermost feelings. I get why your door is shut, and why you need alone time. You have been at school with hundreds of your peers and teachers, for seven hours, and need time to decompress.

I stopped eating as a teenager. I wanted to reduce my space in the world. If I was invisible, perhaps I wouldn’t be hurt anymore? I could have control over something, at last! It took a great deal of effort to restore my body and mind, and retain a healthy weight. Since this time, I have put on weight, been pregnant and bedridden, and you know what? I never once weighed myself. In fact, I don’t own scales. They provide scant information regarding the measure of one’s health; emotional and physical. Nor do they describe how well I’m travelling through the world. Food is now a source of nourishment, and exercise is a tool used for mental wellbeing. Please, don’t contract in. You are allowed to take up space. You are in competition with nobody.

 

I almost died by my own hand. I couldn’t see a way out of the situation I was in; I seemingly couldn’t locate an alternate pathway that would enable me to live. It’s hard when you’re a teenager, to see tomorrow. Everything seems to be focused on the now… The math exam today, the friendship group you’re in, family problems… It can seem insurmountable. I can tell you with the gift of hindsight, that 25 years have passed, and I am so glad that I didn’t die. I am astounded that I’m still here. I grew up and left everything that hurt me. I experienced joy and learnt many things. I had a child, and have beautiful friendships. Whatever is causing distress, shall be vanquished in the course of time. You will leave that high school. You will leave those friends who hurt you. How many of us still have friends from our formative years? If you are fortunate, you may retain one or two, but usually, that’s all. Young adults move for work or university. They travel the world, and form new friendships. These years will go so quickly (even if it doesn’t feel like it now). There hasn’t been a time when I wasn’t glad that I survived, in spite of having challenges as an adult. Your life is precious.

 

Always look at the big picture for your life. Every day you can do tasks that your future self will thank you for. It may be taking time out to see a movie with a friend, or going for a walk. It may be signing up to performing arts groups at school, if your career aspirations lean toward music, drama or dance, for instance. Write down what your dreams are; in every area in your life. Research the pathways that will get you to where you want to go. I promise, that there is more than one  pathway for the fruition of your dreams! Make mind maps, with the dream at the top, and the steps you need to take spreading out like new shoots on a tree. Breaking it down means that it no longer feels overwhelming and insurmountable.

 

As wacky as this sounds, when I felt weak and defeated, I would picture teenage me talking to my adult self. What does she look like? How does she move through the world?  What advice would she give me? It helps you to step outside the problems you are currently facing. Let your future-self lend you strength.

 

Never take anyone else’s opinion about you as gospel. Firstly, if someone is being derogatory toward you, or if you’ve heard from others that they are spreading gossip, you have to ask yourself, why? Are they envious? Do you have something that they want? Look at their motives. The majority of the time, you aren’t in the equation at all. It has nothing to do with you, and everything to do with them.  How you feel about yourself is incredibly important. After all, you have to live with yourself, 24/7. Teenage Pink was told that she wouldn’t amount to anything, by some adults. Many people have had dire predictions thrown on them, regarding their futures. The best revenge is ignoring these ridiculous opinions, and proving them wrong. Nobody has the ability to predict your future, so ignore and rise up. As a dyslexic, I was routinely told that I was stupid. I couldn’t spell, and my writing was appalling. Guess what I ended up doing as a young adult?!  Never let anyone tell you what you are capable of.

If I had my time over as a teenager, I would take up more space, not less. I would be more of an extroverted dresser; a bohemian clothed in mismatched colours and patterns.  I would care less about fitting in, and dedicate my time to standing out. I would feel free to listen to my gut instincts about people and situations, and hope that my instincts were honoured by others. I wouldn’t feel the need to be accomodating and ‘nice’ to people who deserved anything but.

 

I am glad that you are a teenager in an era where you are allowed to have a voice. I am glad that you are living in an era where you can be anything you desire. This is a good time to be alive; to advocate for change. Your generation shall be the ones to change what is foul, and restore what is broken.

Our job as adults is to ensure that you experience your teenage years in an unscathed fashion. Talk to us; please know that you can. We were teenagers once upon a time, and can cast our minds back to see what you are facing. Ask us what is what like for us. Ask for advice. You are important, and you are loved. Us adults can sometimes be a bit slow to catch on, when you try to talk to us about your life. Keep trying… write it down and slip us the paper over breakfast, if need be. Put a communication diary onto our pillow, and we will respond with an entry beneath.  Be patient with us; sometimes we are a bit slow on the uptake, and sometimes we forgot what it was like to be a teenager. We get busy with the ludicrous minutiae of adult life. We need each other, in this mad, infuriating, heart-breaking, joyful, ridiculous world. Let us hear your music, and let us watch your favourite shows with you. Let us into your world. In many respects, you are experiencing life in such a different way to what we did. The ways of our youth no longer exist; gone the way of paper tickets, cameras with film, video cassettes and boomboxes. Teach us what it’s like to be you, a teenager in the world.

Bushfires and Climate Change


In the months leading up to Christmas in Australia, the atmosphere was charged with a negative current. You could see the threat hovering within the blistering sun, and in our parched gardens and lawns. We started to taste ash on our tongues, and took to sealing up our homes. I had to assist a few people who were battling with the air quality, and they all said that they didn’t have a history of asthma, and that their struggle took them by surprise. Fires raged all around my area, and a cursive look at the Fires Near Me app each morning, told a startling tale. This bushfire season was unprecedented, starting early and violently. Friends were forced to leave their homes, with minutes to spare, on occasion. Leading up to Christmas, an installation was put outside Wynyard station, a stark reminder of what had transpired, and what may lay ahead. Charred and devoid of green, it highlighted the calamity our country was facing.

I have followers in many countries, and I know you have all been looking on in horror. I was on the periphery of it, but have many friends who were out there fighting the fires. Some of my mates had to evacuate, and some lost property. Asthmatics have died due to the air quality, and those in ill health have had to seek refuge inside. The smoke permeated through operating theatres, MRI machines, and office blocks. I have had to resort to steroids, two preventers and face masks in order to breathe. An estimated billion native animals have perished. The festive season saw many of us unable to celebrate. Rather, we were refreshing our phones for the latest updates, checking in with loved ones, masking up and feeling helpless as our country burned. This is unprecedented, and can’t be allowed to be our new normal.

Personally, I am appalled at how our government has handled this tipping point. They refused to meet with fire chiefs in order to prepare for this season. They denied the reality of climate change, favouring coal and ignoring alternatives put forth by scientists. Here is an excellent resource on National Geographic, detailing the scientific reality of climate change. Australia has one of the highest emissions of carbon in the world, and the time to look into renewable energy sources to greatly lower our emissions, is today.

We have good people on the ground, helping to restore and rebuild lives and homes, and also rehabilitate the wildlife that survived. The cost of these bushfires will be astronomical, not just in 2020, but in the years to come. Here are a few ideas of where to donate:

Spend with them is an Instagram account, set up by Turia Pitt. When you order a product from this account, you shall be directly helping towns and businesses affected by the fires.

 

Donate to Animals Australia

In NSW, you can donate to your local Rural Fire Service

In Victoria, donations can be made to the Country Fire Association

In South Australia, you can donate to the CFS 

Givit

Foodbank

WILDLIFE

Donate to Animals Australia

Wires

Port Macquarie Koala Hospital

Wildlife Victoria

Educate yourselves on climate change, and start adapting your life. This is a crisis that will affect our world as a whole. You can check out your carbon footprint on this excellent free resource. We can all do better. We must do better. It should be our tribute to those who perished in the bushfires; those who lost everything, and the animals who succumbed. Australia is a breathtakingly beautiful country, which shall rebuild and restore. We need you to visit in the year ahead, to buy from us, and receive our hospitality. I believe as a people, we are already saying, ‘never again.’  I feel the clarion call has been received and responded to. There have been protests and  free educational sessions arranged to deal with climate change and demand action. The commentary on social media toward what transpired in the years leading up to this disaster, has been blistering. We simply won’t stand for inaction, nor apathy. Not anymore.

 

Merry Christmas


May you have a peaceful Christmas and holiday season. My thoughts are with everybody  who has been affected by the bushfires around Australia, and my deepest sympathy to the families of the young fathers who tragically died in service to their community. To make a donation to the families, you can follow this link. To donate to the Rural Fire Service, click here. They need every dollar we can spare. They have managed to keep rising and return to the frontline with lungs full of smoke and little sleep to protect us all. It’s the definition of heroism. They have had to leave their regular jobs for many weeks, and I reckon they all deserve to be paid in full, and have tax exemption status for the year ahead.

May the skies open this Christmas, and bring desperately-needed rain. May our world finally know peace. May you know how loved you are, whatever you decide to do on Christmas Day. Last night, as my daughter and I made our way home, droplets of rain hit the windshield. At first we smiled, rejoicing at the fact. However, we soon noticed that the droplets were mixed with ash, running down the windows like a lady who hasn’t taken her makeup off after a night out. The pitiful rain left shortly after, and the clouds blanketed Sydney.  Surgeons have smelt the smoke in city operating rooms. We smelt it at the beach yesterday. There has been no escaping the threat. Just as tears can’t be contained forever, neither can rain. I just hope that it appears sooner than later, and puts out the fires and fills our dams. As in all times of disaster, we only need look at the helpers to see the best of humanity. It is our turn to help them.

Ratbags and Rogues


Step into working-class Sydney in the 60’s through to the 90’s. These ‘ratbags and rogues’ saved public spaces, historic buildings and homes. They even took over the building of the Sydney Opera House, at one stage! This is a story about the union movement, and what it takes to stand up to powerful figures, whose deepest desire is to squash you underfoot. Told with humour and wistfulness, it also has it’s share of tragedy. Given the current climate, it is also a call to arms. To purchase from Apple iBooks, here.
To purchase the paperback, click here.  For the Kindle version, click here.
Screen Shot 2019-12-11 at 3.14.10 pm

 

Nanna Lyn


My daughter was booked into her first singing lesson after she pleaded with me. She was five years old, and desperate to get to it. I had just started driving again after surgery, and that along with being directionally-challenged, saw me arriving with mere moments to spare. I heard a warm voice holler to “come on in,” and reclining like a grand dame in the living room, was Nanna Lyn. She had warm eyes, and a kind face. I was invited to stay and chat whilst my girl had her lesson with Lyn’s granddaughter, Tiah. An eclectic array of cats and dogs sauntered in and out, their cunning a sight to behold. Within moments, Lyn and I were chatting about our lives.

I looked forward to our catch-ups. This no-nonsense lady would have me in hysterics. She didn’t suffer fools, so I tried not to be one. She gave tremendous advice, and was on hand through every trial. Raising her daughter as a single mum, her home had been a beacon for the neighbourhood kids. The school of hard knocks hadn’t made her hard. Rather, it had softened her, making her receptive to other people. Our Nanny Lyn had an acerbic wit, and we often had tears rolling down our faces from laughing so much. She taught me how to program the internet onto my tv, and was much more adapt at technology than I. A paid-up member of the Barry Manilow fan club, you had me in hysterics, as you relayed some of your early misadventures.

Lyn would order melts for my wax-warmer at home, after I became enchanted with the aroma of a confectionary shop, which streamed through her screen door. My daughter attended lessons with Lyn’s granddaughter for six years. Finally, the time came when Tiah graduated from her music degree, and was offered placement at a school. We were thrilled for her, but missed our weekly sessions. They had been both instructive and incredibly social. The three women, Nanna, mum and daughter, lived together, and worked in simpatico. Christmas festivities were a sight to behold; they went all-out. It must have taken them a solid week to decorate their house. Not only did the trio adore Tiah’s singing students, but they had enough love left over to foster kids as well.

Their home was the sort of place where you felt safe. The same was true of their hearts. We kept in touch via texts and messages. Recently, I discovered that Lyn was going to be having a biopsy, and she underplayed it when I queried her. I ended up in hospital, and who happened to be in the next room, but Nanna Lyn. We spent time together, touching on some very deep subjects. We talked of pain and despair, hope and spiritual matters. I told her that I wished with all my heart that I could take this burden from her and her girls. I was lectured about taking care of myself, eating right, etc. The usual Nanna lecture. I laughed as I promised that I would be good.

She was excited that my daughter and I were flying to South Australia for my friend’s wedding, and her last text message consisted of her wishing the couple a happy life, and ourselves a joyous time away. “See you when I get back,” I replied. Sleep came fitfully upon our return. I had a dream about Lyn. She looked radiant, as though lit from the inside. She was talking to me, but I can’t recall what she said. I woke with a start and looked at my phone. It was 4am. Later that morning, I received word that she had passed, at 4am.

If you had been granted another twenty years of life, it would still be too soon to say goodbye. You came into this world like a comet, and then quietly crept out in the wee hours. It was typical of you to be unassuming, preferring the spotlight be on others. The end was painless and peaceful; you deserved no less. We will love you all our days, with the same ferocity with which you loved musicals. I wish everybody could have met you, and basked in your attention. To have known you was to be gifted care and warmth and love. As you flew away from this place, I can envision you hearing Tiah singing ‘Songbird.‘ You had shown me a video of Tiah, performing it as her HSC piece, and your eyes pooled with tears at the viewing. Fly free, little bird, unencumbered by worldly nonsense.

Love


To the newly-minted couple,

You have made me believe in love again. I have long-admired the ease of your conversations, your encouragement of one another and your kindness to all within your circle. The family game and karaoke nights, the adventures and the hilarity. When I was first introduced to you as a couple, it felt as though you’d been together forever. The fit was perfect; meant to be. My friend with the finest collection of avant -garde shoes I have ever seen, and her beau, with his dress shoes and wool suit. He and I introduced you to Feargal Sharkey (you’re welcome). Who could forget the train carriage full of commuters on Christmas Eve, singing along to this song?!

You were the most chilled-out bride and groom; everyone from the flower vender at the markets to the hairdresser was blown away by your zen attitudes. Having a leisurely breakfast the morning of your wedding, the day seemed unhurried. When your guests saw you being escorted to the venue by your fiancee, we all gasped. You both looked sublime; elegant. It was an image that will be imprinted on my mind all my days. Your dress had sustained a few dirt marks on your way up the hill, and rather than fret, your beau got soda water and a towel, then lovingly wiped your wedding dress clean. Another thing that I love about the both of you is your ability to find solutions together.

Dancing and singing with your guests, you were the last to leave at night’s end. This is the start of the rest of your life, and it was done right. Leading up to the day, you both showed kindness and love to all you came into contact with. On the day it was the same. The detritus of disappointments and angst have been swept away, and all that remains is love. I believe in love again, because I have seen it’s transformative power with my own eyes.

 

Single Parenthood


Fresh fruit and vegetables are put aside for the kids. Mum tells her offspring that she isn’t hungry right now, and will eat later. After they have retired for the night, she eats a plain biscuit, to curb the hunger pangs. The notes that find their way to the dining table from schoolbags, fill her with dread. $60 is required for the performing arts costume. $10 for a ticket to see her child perform. She tries to conjure money from thin air, and sometimes (miraculously), is successful.

She is studying full-time- along with many of her friends- and knows that a well-paying job shall be her reward at the end of her studies. She picks up casual work as much as she can, and tries to look after long-standing health issues, the scripts for which are stacked in the kitchen. She is unable to purchase any of them.

She inquired about going onto Austudy, but was told that it would be less than Newstart, a figure of which doesn’t even cover her rent. She wishes that she could obtain a Government loan, of which she would happily pay back once she was working. There is no money from the other parent, despite many promises. She somehow has to work out her budget with an unreliable co-parent.

Afterpay is a blessing, to purchase necessities, though school uniforms can only be purchased in the school shop. Made by a private company, they have the monopoly on the market, and charge accordingly. As a result, the kids have one uniform, which she washes and dries multiple times each week.

She had to ring the health fund and ask for a suspension on the grounds of hardship. Ironically, they can only do so if she is able to pay up to the date of the call. Her only option was to ask for an extension, and at the beginning of November, she will be required to pay an astronomical amount. Her front tooth is split all the way to the nerve, causing embarrassment and pain. She doesn’t want to let go of the health fund; not yet.

She and the kids only have a few dollars left on their Opal cards, and have to limit their trips. She fears that loved ones who are desperately unwell shall need her, and she will be unable to get to them.

She is cramming day and night, in a desperate bid to complete her studies before time. She needs a full-time job, which is an impossibility at the moment. She has a few prac sessions coming up, and needs experience before anyone will hire her. She needs money to get to prac.

Her heart broke when she discovered that her child didn’t tell her about a school excursion, and she knew that money was the reason he chose to stay behind at school.

She is trying to keep her spirits up. She is trying to cope. It feels as though she is being punished for leaving an abusive and toxic marriage. There was no settlement; he had spent everything they had, forcing her to withdraw her investments and savings. She gets why so many women feel forced into going back or staying when they are desperate to leave. Solutions are simplistic when you are on the outside, looking in. They aren’t at all simple when you are on the inside, looking out.

A hurried storyboard review of her former life is played as an animation. Rather than it occurring at the point of death, it begins at the point of life; true life. The lies, the promises, the dreams and goals. Her ten year projection, which didn’t come to pass. The myriad jobs she took to keep her head above water, the exhaustion and pain. Life shouldn’t consist of survival only, should it? She dreams of being secure, of having money to fall back on. She dreams of having money to go out with friends. She dreams of simple pleasures. She dreams of a time when her children have more than one uniform. She dreams of peace.

She dreams of a government which will support single parents as they start all over again. Her only crime was leaving before she was destroyed. For all the uncertainty and sacrifice, it has been worth it to live on her own terms. Finally, on her own terms.

Assumptions


We all do it, don’t we? Make snap judgements about situations and people. Assumptions… I guess a part of it comes from fear. Terror of being rejected, of not knowing or appreciating our worth to other people. A single mum, I had been undertaking three full-time courses (now only two), and have been flat-out between studying, managing my health and being present for my girl. I haven’t gone out to dinner or even had a coffee with friends, and have felt a little disconnected. To my amazement, when I bump into my tribe, I am greeted with hugs. They have missed me, as much as I have missed them! You have no idea what an invitation can mean to somebody; that sense of connection. Hell, even meeting to do a grocery shop together! People who value you will understand that mummy needs to bank coin. Food isn’t going to buy itself! They get that you are studying, working, surviving on little sleep or have medical appointments to manage. Don’t assume that because you haven’t been visible, that you aren’t missed or wanted. Don’t assume that somebody that has gone to ground is avoiding you. Life is cyclical. There are times when everything happens all at once, and times when the clock empties itself of commitments.

Somebody backs out of an invite to an event or meal out? Perhaps their finances are fragile, and the focus is on making rent and keeping the lights on. Somebody disappears from social media? Could it be that their world has shattered into a million pieces, and they have been buried deep? All shall be revealed come spring, when they emerge as a new being. When parts of a person wither, shrivel, hollow-out and die, it is an immensely private and deeply painful time. They can’t articulate what all this means, nor what it feels like to themselves, let alone their 900 Facebook friends. Time is a luxury that we aren’t afforded much of in this modern age.

In the olden days, a woman with a new baby would have a time of healing. A person in mourning would have a period of keening. We weren’t accessible 24/7, encouraged to show how positive we were being in the face of it all. We were able to just be, instead of do. I met a single mother I adore in the supermarket the other day, and we hugged and briefly caught up. It was a Saturday night, and she was on her way home from work. She has also gone back to University. “At the end of the year, when my studies are over, I can’t wait to catch up!” she enthused. Oh how I appreciated her words. She is in a contracting season, where her studies, her job and her girls are her entire world. It is a mere season, and she can appreciate that it’s end shall offer growth. I look forward to our catch-up, knowing that it will be worth the wait.

Happy 13th Birthday!


Once upon a time, there was a little girl with dimples and chutzpah in spades. Daring and unafraid. She equaled me with her absurdist humour, and we constantly laughed at the nonsense contained within life. Understated, humble and loyal, you turned down opportunities because it was a friend’s birthday, or because somebody needed you more. You have always been loyal to commitments, whenever possible. No interest in validation online, you are happy learning and plugging away in the background. You already know what you are going to do in life, and how you are going to get there.

I am meant to dread the teenage years. However, I don’t. Rather, I am enthralled by it’s swift appearance and amazed by its sweet and wise countenance. I celebrate the arrival of this new world. Keep flying, sweetheart, linking hands and arms with your contemporaries as you all learn new tricks and balance many plates. The answers aren’t found ‘out there’, nor within a phone, but rather, within yourselves. Have fun and make time for silliness. You will be an adult for a long time, and these years shall fly by.

I am learning and evolving at the same time as you. I need to lead the way, showing you how to care for yourself, learn new skills through education, and produce a future worthy of you and I. I look forward to long walks throughout Sydney, including our beloved Secret Garden. We shall keep up with our binge-watching of our favourite shows, whilst eating popcorn. I look forward to facials and pyjama days, camping and road trips, art galleries and our favourite and most hilarious activity, hamming it up as though we are ensconced in a soap opera. We actually are, and it’s best not to take it too seriously; an art you have mastered and in turn, have taught me.

You have told me what you want to do for your birthday. You want to hang out, have a supermarket chocolate cake, eat pizza then watch a movie at home. It’s so you. Whether you are holding a homeless person’s hand, demanding manners from a passenger on a train, encouraging a distressed friend or putting up with your directionally-challenged mother, you have style and grace, and a laser-like focus. It shall remain with you all your days, even after the next act in your life dissipates. Six short years, and then there will be another phase beginning. I shall remain right by your side throughout.

Love,

Mum