One year and one month is all it took for everything to change.

The dunes at our beach...


migrated over the road


Dad's hand...


became Mom's


and the bared bummed babe...


became a boy


One year and one month, that's all it took for everything to change. Everything except that hideous skirt.

“Some people come into our lives and quickly go. Some people move our souls to dance. They awaken us to a new understanding with the passing whisper of their wisdom. Some people make the sky more beautiful to gaze upon. They stay in our lives for awhile, leave footprints on our hearts, and we are never, ever the same.”
~Flavia Weedn ~

We all have those people, not the obvious connections, our family or close friends, but those who are with us for a short period of time. Those who, although now no longer are a part of you, somehow have managed to make such a lasting impression that when we speak of our defining moments, they inevitably are the 1st that come to mind.

In my darkest moment, in a time when I no longer wanted to exist, such a person came into my life. My mind was fractured, my soul nearing collapse. I could make no sense of the world after what I had endured. I remember standing in front of her in my school uniform, not wanting to confront the maddening crowds, knowing that they all had their child like innocence and I had none. In that moment I uttered something, I cannot remember what it was, it must have been something that reflected the darkness I felt. What she said to me has stuck, it is the defining moment of my life, and I would never have survived Syd's death without those words on endless repeat in my head. "You are beautiful, you are intelligent, you will be successful. Sometimes life sucks, and what has happened is disgusting, unthinkable, but you will survive, you are a fighter because the world would not be the same without you"!

When Syd died I didn't stop moving, my mind was a whirling mess of thoughts, I willed my body to move constantly. I feared that if I stopped my world would cave in, that I would not be able to get out of bed. For weeks I survived on very few hours sleep, my life a daily commute between banks, work, taking care of our child, food, shopping and when I had nothing else to do, an endless stream of washing. I found myself one Saturday, after putting our son down for a nap, at a loose end the itch to do something, anything taking over. I walked out in the pouring rain to get my post. In amongst the bills was a post card with something so simple written on it. I sat, stared at it, without reading the name, I knew who it was from... I had stopped moving, when I looked at the time more than 30 minutes had past. My world still standing, my mind cleansed from the tears I had cried. My guardian angel once again reminding me that I am worth it, another footprint on my heart, another defining moment creating the new me.

It is said that human beings will always return to what is familiar to them. Even those who crave change, seek that which is comfortable to them.

But what becomes of those who's familiar is ripped from them... when our sanctity ceases to be?

We are forced into a rebirth, a situation of relearning all that we have been taught.

I remember reading with ferver the story of Matt, Liz and Madeline. My heart aching for his what could've been. When my own husband was ripped from me, I stopped reading. His pain became a reflection of my own. I couldn't write, fearing the words I committed to this space would reflect the starkness of my life.

In these first few months of being ripped from the womb, I am relearning to live... to feel. I am conciously aware of the beauty of what is around us... of the complexity of our intertwined lives.

This has always been one of the fundamental spaces. A place where I can be who I am. Where my musings and uniqe views on humanity can be expressed. This is my familiar.

It will as always be a little dark, mostly funny and sometimes, maybe sad but it is mine.

Human beings always return to the familiar...