A family in Sydney lost their eldest son (19) a few years back. He was punched in a random one-punch attack while out in the city one night with his girlfriend. The perpetrator was under the influence.
Yesterday his younger brother was found dead. Also at the age of 19. I cannot comprehend how the parents are expected to cope. Losing both sons at the age of 19 four years apart. Unimaginable pain and loss. Never ending.
Love your loved ones please, tomorrow their day might be night.
My hair’s been irritating me for a while, and no chance to get to a hairdresser. So this evening my fingers were really itchy and before I knew it my hair was chopped!
Yay me, and it feels so good ✂️
Exploring the city – May 1998
One of my best friends arrived in Sydney from Johannesburg yesterday. They made the brave decision to leave friends, family and everything they know behind, and start somewhere new. It will be our ninth anniversary later this year. I think back on those first days, the up and downs, the mixed emotions, the craziness of learning to swim in a new pool. Everything so scary, and so exciting too. The best thing was the feeling of safety. To park my car and know with a fair amount of certainty that I will be able to return to it, and that it will still be where I parked it. Nine years on and I feel so very blessed, so thankful that doors opened for us when they did, and allowed us to create a life in a safe and peaceful land.
Australia is its own island, and has only been good to us.
https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/island/
Feeling sorry for myself, and a kind friend told me to stop wallowing. Other friends allow me to wallow. But it is the ‘Stop It’ comment that really help to put life into perspective and to change my attitude. You will change your attitude. I will! Indeed! Self-pity be gone.
My dad loves to give gifts. He bought me a gold ring when I turned eleven, and had my name engraved on it. Also a gold cross necklace after my mother passed away. (Unfortunately both stolen because South Africa).
On Sunday mornings he would play his music, and cook breakfast. His favorite was Rod Stewart. We always had his music playing in the house. At one point I think he must have had the worlds largest ‘record’ selection. He loves dogs, and has two, Chico and Coco.
My hand and four of my fingers are the exact same size as his. If I hold my hand against his the only one that is different is the middle finger, he has a longer middle finger.
He is always very happy to hear from me when we speak. And hearing his voice is comforting to me.
Celebrating new cups at donut king, free coffee for the day!
Happy cappuccino time 🙂
“Searching for trust
In a city of rust”
(John Lambert Ghost Town)
This song was playing repeat on the radio in Johannesburg. I miss Joburg! The music, the djs that I still remember on the radio stations, driving everywhere, Sandton City, visiting my dad, seeing my sister and nieces, Wimpy coffee and You magazines. And Woolworths.
In two weeks of driving I received a traffic fine. Driving 71km/h in a 60km zone. What can I say, in Sydney I use the bus service most of the time. No driving for me. But in Johannesburg, my car is my legs.
V and I have been friends forever.
Or at least since I was twelve years old. We grew up in the apartheid years. Which meant we could not go to the cinema together. Or a restaurant.
Or catch a bus. Our friendship was only possible because we attended a Catholic school, and mixed race was permitted. V often used to stay in our home. She knew my parents well. Distance may keep us apart, but we will always be friends.
The past week the neighbor in the Johannesburg office has been very welcoming and friendly. Appreciated by myself as I have had so much to do, and so much going on, it is good to see a friendly face. We get on like a house on fire. Today we worked out he is the brother to the woman who married my college sweetheart. We are connected. I’ve seen his sister (1998), she has spoken to me. Actually she hates me. But that’s beside the point. It is a small world!
Don’t ask what my mother did with our hair, but there you go, I was all of six once and a flower girl at my aunt’s wedding.
Poems and Petals 