Ma Wa Gray

As we are hustling children, PE bags and tennis rackets into the car I notice a beautiful Egyptian goose on the top most point of our roof. 'Guys there's a goose on the roof!' Eva a moment later, sauntering up the stairs, 'Don't you mean there's a duck on the dak'?

There are certain Monday mornings when the alarm goes off and all of a sudden a plethora of obstacles line up at the side of ones bed. Final prac exam in a week, woefully unprepared boys, trail exam marks deadline tomorrow, full kitchen renovation starts this morning, I have rehearsals every night this week, I have a sick boy at home, Eva has had another flair up of eczema... And then Stephen has a whole other list of work stuff of his own too. But I remember a time in my life when I was completely alone and was praying fervently that I would be living a life that was as rewarding, challenging, creative and full of love as the one I now live. So this morning I am going to welcome the line of obstacles and reframe them as reminders. Reminders that I get to live the life I prayed so hard for. 

 I'm heading off on leadership week to Zingela. One of the things we have to do before heading off is checking the boys bags for contraband...like vodka spritzers... There is something deeply moving about checking someone's bag. A bag is a metaphor for a person. Some moms have packed the bags. The care and attention is there. There is logic and order in the organizational structures of the packing. And some boys have done it themselves and they know where every single mozzie repellent and fishing lure is. Some have packed their undies in separate compartments. All have carefully packed toiletry bags. Some boys read the packing list and then packed a full electric bedside lamp because it said you should bring a light. Some boys packed their own bags and they are already in a state of absolute chaos with minimal clothes, energade leaking all over their slippers. And many have made last minute runs to the San to get a Tupperware lid to eat off because they haven't checked the ...

I had a bad dream about Willow, our dog, last night. I told her this morning not to be run over by a train. Stephen said fortunately trains dont work anymore.  The two hounds are now sitting at my feet while I write this. The devotion of a dog is incomparable. And if you've grown up with dogs you'll know that your timeline will be pockmarked with the joy of their arrival and the utter devastation of their loss. You never know how much you're going to love a dog when you fetch them for the first time. But you know how much they have changed you once they leave. And, unlike humans, the change is always for the good. 

Dolly Parton died two days ago. I have learnt more about her in her death than I ever would have before her death. About growing up in poverty, her illiterate father, the town skank who her mother called 'trash' and from whom Dolly got her sense of style, the millions of books children have recieved because of her, her hysterectomy at 38 that led to her childlessness but also her mothering of countless others... How sad that the true beauty, generosity and courage of so many people are only ever revealed to all once that person has gone. 

 Across the valley the dogs start their long distance relationships via bark. Several horses graze in the field at the bottom of the valley. The poultry farm clucks itself into awakeness and the echoes of late night peacock calls still reverberate through the gum trees. The fiery necked nightjar has long given up her post at the bottom of the garden and the morning birds fill her silence. The day has begun.