Last year

It must be the distance, the thousands and thousands of kilometres from the bottom tip of Africa, that makes me feel that my dad didn't really pass away a year ago.

Or a stubborn belief that life is supposed to be good (which it isn't).

Life ain't good nor easy nor fair and constructs of magic and gods lull us into a false belief that we are protected and cared for.

But really:

The only beings who care for our sorry selves, are the other poor sods also plodding through life, trying to make sense of pain and death.

And my father was one of those that truly and deeply cared for me.

He was 50% of my official fanclub.

Life, dear reader, can be utterly dark.

Without my dad, it seems even darker.

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Shrouded

A fog has descended on The Nether Lands.
I escaped work in lieu of a quiet eavesdropping & study morning in Ikea's restaurant.
It's been nearly 6 weeks since I was here the last time, so I suppose I can come here again.

Today is the day before tomorrow, which is a black-bad day.
Tomorrow will be the first anniversary of my father's death.
The weather plays along with my mood.
Hang in there, mom.
x

Aujordhuimerci

Forgive me.
This is a long one, but the internet was dodgy up on my French hill, and it left me with more time to do nothing but stare.

We had it goooooood.

We had lots of these (but in view of the surroundings, it was A-Okay).
Tantrum #4152.

Perhaps we need to accept that Son#1 will never accept Son#2 and that #2 will always try to get #1's approval (to his own detriment, poor bunny)?

  

The dining area was lu-ver-ley and I want that red cupboard.

Hand luggage?
(Didn't work out)

Another view of our view

We drove to Saint-Chinian and bought small sausages and 4 bars of soap (and I love bars of soap, not the shower crap that comes in tubes).

But the husband had a near heart attack after we split #1 and #2 up in the car and they STILL fought like cats and dogs (or lions and tigers).

But forgodssakes, it's a 7-seater car.

There are limits to limits.

After the meltdown & market, we drove around aimlessly, too scared to go back to the house and all the damn fighting that would inevitably be part of the day there.

It turned into a stop in Capestang with quiet cathedral until Son#2 needed to pee.

A narrow miss of the large crucifix outside. 

Son#1 spent his days in a huff, bored and pre-pubescent (oh boy).

The husband is right:  being bored means that you have time.

What a damn luxury.

The husband and I are never bored...

There was sand and water in the garden.

Life was good.

Thinking out of the box:

The boys went exploring outside and were chased away by an angry lady, causing Son#3 to come home, bursting into tears.

One of those open-mouthed wails where sadness comes from a deep and lonely place.

The poor thing never hears 'no'.

Dinner for the husband:

I had wine (a bit too much) and cheese (for the first time since August) and my body didn't quite know what to make of that.

 

 

One morning, we drove to Meze, a lovely place, really, with a small marina and beach where the boys frolicked until their faces turned blue (it's October, but we're used to the Netherlands - the 20 degrees we were experiencing here is akin to high summer).

Son#2 stepped on a sea urchin or something, and try as we might, neither the husband nor I could get the tentacles (or whatever it might be) out of his left foot.

Then there was Narbonne...

  

But also Carcassonne (lovely, yet again).

And Collioure.
I have no words.
NO WORDS for beauty such as this:

We landed again in Belgium, under thick clouds and rain.
It felt like we were:
a)  returning to prison after a short break, and
b) being swept under a carpet of clouds.

I took Son#1 and #2 to the movies on Sunday, and then worked until the early hours of the morning for my lessons this morning.

I love France.
I can't speak much French anymore, but I adore the arid landscape, the wide skies, the differences in altitude that actually affords one a view.
I was happy there.



 

Back to the salt mines.

 

 

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Just Breakfast

Just Perfect, thankyouverymuch.

Son#1 caught a red bug in the garden, christened him 'Flip'.

God only knows where the poor thing was set free.

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Merde

We are in a tiny hamlet, Tudery.

The view is breathtaking, and the husband and I both wonder if my dad can see this.

He would have loved it.

And so would my mum.
 

We're all a bit grey under our eyes and around our mouths from the early morning rise.

Son#1 was a self-igniting rocket today:  everything and anything set him off.

We had many fights (and then I'll shut up or say something un-nice).

It's not even 7 p.m. and the boys are fast asleep.
 

We'll wake tomorrow morning to views of jagged rocks across the valley and grey-green oleanders, pine trees and vines, and we'll be thankful to be alive.

What a damn privilege this is.
 

(Roos:  I wish I could gift the four of you with a week here.
Sending you & yours lots of love and good thoughts from France.

Come on, Lotto, do your thing).

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On ne va, cherie

Two a.m.

Waking the boys in an hour.

A good holiday awaits.

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Mantra for Today (an old forgotten favourite)

 

Do your work

and step back.

 

Thank you, Lao Tzu.

 

 

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Dancing Zorba

Son#2 had his school recital.

He was 'Spring'.

You should have seen him bop and jive.

In his element.

Good grief but I adore this kid.

*Sigh*

Son#3 started vomiting yesterday, and now, at 3 a.m. just vomited again.

I changed his bedding but he needs to fall asleep again and so do I.

I need sleep.

Neeeeeeeeeeeeed it.

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Study, sister

The winter quilts have been unearthed from the attic.

A day of knowledge awaits.

Bliss.

Pure Bliss.

A run-in with Muhammad Ali

My face-swelling has hopefully reached its zenith and will only go down from here.

'Hamster' doesn't quite cover it.

If I would venture outside, someone would surely think that the good husband beat the sparks out of me.

I'm staying home today and tomorrow, spending my days on my knees, praying, hoping that my face won't discolour any more than it has already.

Vanity is a sad state.

What I love though, is how the boys just accept me with busted face and all.

Nary a word is mentioned.

Gotta love them kiddos.



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