3 min read

now. this.

now. this.



 am chasing flies around my parents living room, armed with a lime green coloured swatter thats paddle is shaped like a hand. its more bendy than i am used to and my half-hearted swings lack the force required to do anything but push air in their general direction. lucky day for the flies.

my hair is getting longer… i pass a photo in the hallway of me around nine years old. the younger me has longer hair still and i pause for a moment, taking her in, noting the length and silently vowing to recover her shiny long locks (even though they will frame a much older face).

the grandmother clock in the corner chimes the hour, its quiet ticking making me drowsy. the aches in my body from HIIT, running & spin have me reluctant to take a quick nap on the sofa, fearing i will snooze folded at a weird angle and feel worse for it when i wake. ive been for a drive and scoped out a couple of places nearby where i can do a couple of loops to keep up with my new trail running escapades and plan to head out tomorrow morning whilst my parents are at church. nature is my holy place.

we have been out to the markets, and a local poultry club meeting, we have talked about gardening and making bread and how to darn things without a mushroom. we have flicked through my mothers book of collected recipes, reminiscing over plum sauce and ginger beer.

my mother is knitting baby booties and tiny hats that she gives to the local hospital for the prem babies. she has lost count of how many (hundreds) she’s made and tells me that she is thinking about her mother when she was her age and how she used to knit booties too. i can’t (don’t) knit and i don’t have a daughter, so the line will stop here – on the sofa – in my parents living room.

my bag for the return flight home will be stuffed with air plants, seed pods, cuttings and seedlings. a sure sign i have been visiting my mother.