EDP Column, On Reflection

You can only take five memories with you

On the writing magazine I run, we recently set a writing prompt which has provoked more of an emotional response than any other we have set in the past. The premise is: “You are being shipped to an island, but can only take five memories with you.”

I have sat down several times to tackle this writing prompt but, like many others, soon sit back from the screen realising, “Gosh, this is hard.” I started again this weekend by making a list of every notable moment in my life. These moments currently fill a large notebook, so Lord only knew how I was going to pick only five.

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On Reflection

Paint me happy

There is a moment, a nano-second, when deciding to re-decorate an apartment makes sense to you. My moment was a day before work when I sat in my favourite armchair drinking my one and only cup of coffee for the day.

It’s the time I take stock, think about the day ahead, stop thinking about the day ahead, and just sit for 15 minutes. It’s the time in the day I call up gratitude and mind all the things, places and people I am grateful to have in my life. It didn’t occur to me two weeks ago to be effing grateful for a well-ordered apartment in which I could sit, drink coffee and navel gaze.

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On Reflection

My mother, Cynthia

My background is not one of affluence, or what one could in any way term a cushioned life. That said, with all the challenges my siblings and I faced growing up, mum never allowed us to dwell in our misery or focus too much on the negative. And you know sometimes how you just want to kvetch, bitch, whine, or rail, even just for a moment? My mother would not have it. There were days you wanted to cry out: “For Pete’s sake, when on earth can I be depressed or miserable about something? Is this bad enough? Or this?”

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Gibberish Generation, On Reflection

Expressions of love that bind

My children know not to buy me ‘stuff,’ be it Valentine’s, birthday, Thanksgiving, Christmas or anniversaries.

They were broken of the habit the Christmas I discovered a couple of sacks of gifts for them they had not even missed. From that Christmas onwards the children received one gift from me and Bronnie, and friends and family were discouraged from buying them stuff that wasn’t somehow useful or needed. (No, the children did not suffer. Suffering is not having enough food to eat or shoes to walk to school.)

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