The Move-A Saga of Crooks and Christmas Wonder


Last week, we moved house. It has been a long time coming. Five years in one home was a record for me, and it wasn’t even comfortable. It didn’t feel like a sanctuary. You get “stuck” in a place or situation without realizing it, and the thought of moving… Friends dropped boxes off throughout the past six months, and I slowly packed them and moved them into the garage. I thought I had de-cluttered sufficiently. We organized mover’s and cleaners so that we wouldn’t have to ask anyone for help. I geared myself up for the inevitable pain I would face with the rigours of moving, and my spine didn’t disappoint. A few days before, I lost control of my right arm and my bladder. Half of my spine went numb; the other portion was agonizing. I was amazed at my ability to peak before the main event! I told loved ones that I would sort out the new place within four days then have a good rest. After a period of a week, I would return to society. I was rather pleased that I had a hired team and wouldn’t require any assistance.


The day arrived, and I couldn’t wait. I had swept up all my memories, and was taking only the good with me. I went to the new place early, imagining where everything would go. I noted that the movers had put some boxes in the garage, and remarked to my friend that they were “lovely young men.” They didn’t make a reappearance and I was told that they weren’t at our old place either. We rang their mobile but it was switched off. “They must have gone to lunch,” I kept repeating to myself.  We rang their boss who informed us that they had left and weren’t coming back. They had taken their fee from the credit card! Crap!!! We had a full house of furniture to transport and half a day to do it in. Hurriedly hiring a truck, we asked if anyone was around who could help. A fellow listened to our tale of woe at the reception area when we got the truck, and would you believe he turned out to be one of our new neighbours! He insisted on helping. Mums, children and men gathered, and the moving began. I burst into tears when I saw more friends alight from cars. Some brought food and cold drinks. An elderly fellow around the street from our old place was one of those who offered. It was a heat wave and I was astounded when they brought in wall units and fridges with a big smile on their sweaty faces.


I kept saying “thankyou,” until they could bear it no longer and demanded I be quiet. I heard the children laughing and playing together in the garden. We had a gathering of good people, sitting under a fan, sharing their lives. An elderly man told me about being a ward of the state and growing up in an orphanage and how he is shy and lonely. “You are doing okay with this group!” I assured him. He mentioned what lovely friends I had, and I nodded. “They’re the best.” They brought in our old tattered furniture with great care, the last of the group leaving at 11pm. The next day, we informed the movers that we would go to the Department of Fair Trading if the money wasn’t put back in our account and begrudgingly, they relented.


Beautiful furniture was left at our door-gifts from a dear friend- and food was delivered. What a dichotomy, to experience scoundrels and angels on the same day. I went out to the garage and looked on in dismay at the multitude of boxes stacked to the ceiling. Why had I kept so much? I could have halved it before the move! I felt overwhelmed as to where to start. A little dog from across the street broke away from its elderly neighbour and ran into my garage. It lifted its leg and peed on a box. I laughed and laughed. Maybe it was a sign?! I organized the house within four days, and then crawled into bed. I am about to re-emerge from my cave.

We couldn’t have our Christmas Tree up at the old place as there was no room. By a miracle, it was the first box we unpacked, and we set about decorating it. As each ornament was slid onto a branch, we gave thanks. Thankfulness for new beginnings, a beautiful home and for the best friends anyone could have. I have learnt that it is okay to ask for help, and that whilst there are scammers and shysters’ creeping around, waiting to pounce, there are more good people in this world. On the 1st December, I felt the power of the Christmas Spirit. It is love, kindness and servitude. It blessed my new home with its presence.


Onwards and Upwards!

I have lived in over twenty places, some better than others. There was the place infested with rats, whose walls were reinforced with flattened cardboard boxes. That was a quick stay! There was a former horse stable. There was a bitterly cold cottage in the mountains and flats in crime-ridden areas. When I came to this cottage, I was spent in every sense. The two years prior, I had broken my back again by slipping over in the street, and had three surgeries. I thought that it would be a good resting place, at least for a little while. Five years later, I am packing up and moving on, astounded at the intensity of the emotions I am experiencing.

In the little kitchen, I picture Serena, washing up, laughing as she does so. I picture her baby being cradled by my friend on the back porch. I envision Serena sitting at my dining table, as the children play. Every room has a memory of her. I need to leave this place. You know when it is time. I need a bigger place; one that is peaceful. I don’t want to leave her here. This place contains lingering memories of her. I would come home and find little gifts left by her near the front door. We would walk to the river. In the end, its the simple times we remember most, isn’t it? The grandiosity of balls and the like are wiped away over time. Its her being at my sink washing up… It makes that sink holy. The lounge is holy too. The mirror over the bathroom sink, where she would glance at herself. This beautiful, gentle woman.

A home is just a place. It is when precious souls imbue their energy onto a place that it comes to life, having a force-field of its own. I have laughed in this home, and I have cried more tears than I have ever thought possible. I have been terrified here, and I have come undone. I was told it wasn’t possible to have more children whilst living here, and I have had to craft a new life for myself. By leaving, I am saying it is done. I am ready! My memories of Serena are coming with me. See you on the other side of this move. xxx

Inside Out, Heatwaves and the Wonder of a Full Circle

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We are having a spate of heatwaves in Australia. It’s the kind of oppressive weather that sees you seal yourself in your home with the aircon. It is too hot to even consider going to the local swimming pool. The thought of walking at all is enough to drain your energy. I did go out Monday, into the city for a class my daughter attends. It was hot, though not yet a heat wave. The view more than made up for it.


Afterward, we went to see a friend in hospital. Strangely enough, it was the hospital where I nearly lost my life five years ago. It happened to be around the corner from the building where I nearly lost my life two decades ago. I went past the old orthopaedic ward, where I lay flat on a rotor-bed for months. I greeted the vision that appeared in my mind’s eye. If everything is happening at once, as per quantum physics, then she may have been aware of my presence. She wouldn’t have thought in her wildest imaginings that she would still be here in 2015. She could hardly take in the year 2000 and its impending approach! I looked at my daughter as we got to the lift. She was unaware of the memories contained in this place. She didn’t know that she had cuddled me, touching my face, as I was taken down to have surgery to save my life. My pregnant friend was hospitalized a week ago. She has been through hell, since a car crash. Her spine was broken, and she has had much pain. She went into labour just before we arrived, and we stayed until her husband could be with her. She ended up having a beautiful baby boy. Life comes full-circle.  I had only bad memories of this particular area of Sydney, of threatening men and general menace. Here I was, talking my friend through the pain. My daughter was the visible sign to her that a lady with spinal injuries could cope, and that her child would be fine. We both delivered by caesarean, and it was a blessing to be able to provide her with  hope when all seemed uncertain. Meaning coming out of nonsense.

I am in the process of moving house. We were given notice at our old place five years ago, just before Christmas. It was shortly after I had been discharged from this very hospital after having two surgeries. I was weak and exhausted, and our run-down cottage was the first place I saw. “It will do,” I said at the time. You know when it is time to move on, and we have found a gorgeous house. I am packing a little bit at a time. Between working, home schooling, and the many, many things I am doing that are necessary and time-consuming, there is little time for anything else. I would love for time to be fluid, but it is a harsh taskmaster on this planet of ours. I can only do what I can do. I am well aware that this spine is rather unstable, and that ironically, at a time I need to be more active than ever, I shall need to rest it more so that it isn’t taxed to the point of breaking. Pacing myself and making lists on scraps of paper (which I then either misplace or pack). I have so many lovely friends who have kindly offered to help. I appreciate both their offers and their love. I am telling this body that I have twelve more days to get it all done. As an eccentric, I long ago set myself a set of rules that not only make me feel safe but make sense. I have a rule that any house I move into shall be set up within four days, not a box in sight. I tell my body that it only has to keep going for four days after the move, and then rest shall come. Sweet, wondrous rest. After one week, I shall be ready to rejoin the world, in time for Christmas. Sounds like a plan to me!