Sunday

 

When we attend to the moment, the weight of our attention slows time down and we see we have been given gifts. Ann Voskamp

Thursday

This week I was sent two pictures of my paternal great-grandmother.  The first photograph is said to be taken when she was 16.  Phyllis May Brill was born on 11 December 1893.  She died when I was three.  I have spent a lot of time years ago researching family history, but won't delve into all of that now.  

I love the photographs.  Her clothes, the Edwardian jewellery.

Phyllis' story intrigues me.  We are told her parents were William and Rachel Brill.  Her marriage certificate states this.  Her birth certificate however, lists her mother as Maria Brill, father unknown.  Charlotte Maria Brill (known as "Ria") was born in 1870, she was the daughter of William and Rachel Brill.  This makes her 23 when Phyllis was born.  I don't imagine it was ever hidden that Maria was Phyllis' mother.  I look at other photographs that I have seen of Phyllis in local history books.  One taken of her primary school class.  Another photograph of the family, all seated/standing formally in front of the family home.  I see Maria, standing at the opposite side of the group to Phyllis.  What was it like growing up with a younger sister, knowing she was in fact your daughter?  Did they do a lot together when growing up - with 23 years between them?  Did they see each other often in their old age?  

I also think of William and Rachel, staunch Methodists, in the family photograph the bible placed on Rachel's lap.  I like that they supported their daughter and took Phyllis in, raising her as their own.  There is one part of Phyllis' story though which is lost and will never be known.  Who her father was. 
Truth is, in any family tree there will be birth certificates that state "father unknown".  

I once sat with my grandmother and her sister in a rare moment where they talked about family history.  Nan's sister said that their dad did not like my grandfather, as he was Aboriginal.  Of course my dad does not look Indigenous, and neither does his dad.  But does that mean that Phyllis' father wasn't?

 

 (Herbert George Ceely and Phyllis May Brill)

As I pulled out dust covered boxes of papers and newspaper articles, I read through emails I received from a writer, who occasionally teaches night classes at the ANU on writing family history and writing the women's stories.  That is something I would love to do- write about all the women in my family, as I see all of them as strong women.  Living throughout various times, literally building homes in the bush from nothing.  One day maybe I will collate the photographs and the stories that have been passed down.  While the truth can only be alluded to, the stories are far more interesting that two dates on a headstone.

Wednesday

"Never since they were small children had they clustered about her so, and never since then had she been so aware of the smell of their hair, their softness, breathiness, abruptness.  It filled her with a strange elation, the same pleasure she had felt when any one of them, as a sucking child, had fastened her eyes on her face and reached for her other breast, her hair, her lips, hungry to touch, eager to be filled for a while and sleep."

~ Housekeeping (Marilynne Robinson)

Monday

 

I watch Maggie.  I want to remember everything.  

For a while now she has insisted on being the one to say grace before our meals.  Initially it was “Jesus name, Amen!”.  Now other words pepper her prayer.  Food, Nan, toys, pop and gran.  

At night she insists on a story.  Although I know it is a delaying tactic, I never say no to reading her a story.  A love for reading is something I have actively tried to instil in each of my kids, and I value the opportunity to read through old favourites again, being able to see the joy captured in another child.

Maggie hugs her favourite doll, saying “shhhh” and rocking her.  Then she brings her to me and asks me to look after the doll (named Petal) as she has to go to work.  She puts a bag on her shoulder and blows a kiss, saying “luff you” as she walks away. I don’t know whether I find this endearing, or whether it makes me a little sad that it is routine for her.  

She picks up anything and pretends to talk on the phone, having very considered conversations, saying “uh huh” and nodding and pausing for periods as she “listens” to the voice on the other end.

I watch her and I want to bathe in the moment.  I look at Nicholas and Audrey and I see how quickly time goes.

Thursday

Sunday

While we enjoy camping and all the activities that go with it, late last year I had booked three nights at Broulee.  We had a two bedroom cabin which was very comfortable.  After a busy start to the year it was nice to just arrive with our clothes and open the door.
The kids brought their scooters and soon made friends.  They met up in mornings after breakfast, and after dinner for a game of spotlight before bed.  We didn't do too much at all, except wander into Batemans Bay for coffee one day, and then to the beach at various times.  (Of course the lolly shop in Mogo was a big hit!) One morning I took Maggie down to the beach on my own and we built sandcastles.  After a while I left my blanket on the beach and thought I would take Maggie back to the cabin and return on my own to read.  By the time we got to the cabin, the rest of the family had decided to join us.  That was ok - Nicholas and Audrey swam with David, Maggie got her feet wet, and then the girls and I collected shells to decorate the sand castles.  Nicholas spent lots of time on his scooter with old and new friends, so pictures of him are few...

On the way home we stopped at Mogo Zoo, where my camera battery promptly went flat.  I have some photos on my iPhone of the kids feeding deer and giraffes.  Priceless, so will try to download them.  It was a gorgeous zoo, and everything just felt so natural.  The kids had a ball, and enjoyed feeding deer and giraffe. 

David and I brought a couple of our favourite tv shows on dvd, but really just relaxed at night caught up on sleep.  The perfect "re-energising" holiday. I did feel a tinge of sorrow to have to be home so soon.

Saturday

We spent some time this afternoon getting our winter vegetables planted.  After all, you can never have too much cabbage, spinach and brussel sprouts! ;)

Last week Maggie and I got a head start on some planting.  With dolls and play in the cubby house included.