Just a quick snapshot of moments that pass in the blink of an eye, but emerge for me later, to fondle as I sleep.
Watching the brown water swirl around my feet, as I stand open mouthed in the loungeroom, staring at the river that refuses to behave, knowing I can do nothing more.
My husband taking me to dinner at the local Tavern, determined to feed me a steak. ‘You looks so tired” he says, with such a tenderness that my heart squeezes with love for him.
A final prayer with my fifteen remaining Mormon Angels, standing on the street, heads bowed. The middle-aged woman bless us all, blesses my mother-in-laws home, and asks God to help them in their care and chores for the following house, who ever that may be. Such a selfless gift.
Watching a silver-domed motorcyclist tap his feet and hand to an unheard rhythm as he rides the northern highway, snaking it’s way out of the city. It reminded me that I always have my music. Thank you for the heads up.
Bursting into tears of distress, and sitting hunched on the edge of my bed, whimpering like a beaten dog. I am a shell, and I can almost feel my soul retreating within me.
Finding in the last pile of rubbish; two cheap water-stained Albert Namatjira prints of the outback; with its shocking reds and vivid blues, reminding me that the sun does indeed still shine in other places.
I just have to remember that.
My husband tells me they are part of a bank calendar, from the 1960’s but I don’t care, to me they are beautiful. Art is what makes us human, it’s nourishes our soul. You don’t see giraffes or dogs painting (although you do see cats and elephants!) and ever since mankind sheltered within a cave and painted bison, art is what defines us and shapes our world and records our history.
These prints are worthless; but they remind me of my in-laws travels to the outback and beyond; and the other world of Australia, the aboriginal world of nature and the Land.