Monday, July 26, 2010

Blurry times

We're five days away from moving house, my husband is in Johannesburg for work until the eve of the move, I am left literally holding the baby and figuratively holding the fort. Wondering why I have so many damned towels, how curtains can get so grubby and if I really have to wash the windows before handing the keys back to the landlord. Hoping the meter readers actually turn up to finalise and disconnect our electricity and water services as planned and that the woodman finds his way to the farm with the firewood we ordered. There are friends coming to help, food needing to be bought, glassware to pack, furniture to plastic-wrap. I am trying to be zen about it all but find it whirling around me a little too fast.

And in the middle, a split second of calm. A message from Shane, he misses his family. And by family, he means us. Ezra & I. He's never called us his family before. I think I love it.

Friday, July 9, 2010


Ezra is 143 days old. Can you frikkin' believe it? I feel as if he has been part of me and my life always. And I suppose in a way he has. I am amused, entranced, astounded by him every day. I watch in awe as he discovers the ways and means and details of life in every second he is awake, never tiring in his quest to find something new. I watch his mouth twist in smiles and anguish as he sleeps, dreaming of things I will never know. I see innocence, intelligence, wonder, as he learns, as he grows, as he explores the tiny piece of this world that he inhabits. I watch myself watching him and I am intrigued to see that his amazement at all things new is mirrored in me. I thought I would eventually be bored by a baby, enough to warrant a return to the adult world of work and considered response, I cannot fathom that rationale now.

We are close to our great trek out of small town suburbia and into the wilds of farm life. I try to think about it as little as possible because my patience is running out, which means, of course, that it occupies my mind at every turn. I have decorated that house a hundred times in my head, not just with furniture but with hopes and dreams and scenes of bread baking, apple growing, laughter and love. I cannot believe that my luck has carried me this far, this close to the things I have wished for. There is a soundtrack to my life now, things are happening so fast and with such remarkable joy that I can't help but see it in a musical montage. I am a sentimental fool, but one who knows just how lucky she is. Be happy for me, I am overjoyed for myself.

It is new to me, this hunger for each new day and what it will bring, I have lived my life looking back for so long that turning around seems dangerously optimistic. But I am an optimist, albeit one with a bad sense of direction.

I cried yesterday in sadness, the first tears not welled from joy in a long time. A rat came staggering drunkenly across the kitchen floor at me, poisoned by my hand. It seems unfair that in the midst of my happiness I need face the reality that I chose to kill this innocent little creature to protect my child. Yin & yang? It's hard to accept that I have the power to choose a life at the expense of others. I know this will be the first of many hard decisions to make, when I am asked to abandon my own instincts, my own moral compass, in the interests of my son. I wait longingly for the day when I can explain this to him, when he can understand that I do these things not because I think they are right, but because it is my responsibility as his mother to protect and defend him when he cannot. Even if that means tears.