In my quest to claw my way up from the pits of last week I’ve been spending a bit more time outdoors. It’s super hot just now and with the storm clouds looming the humidity is ramping up and so, determined to take advantage of any breeze there is, I’ve shifted one of my chairs around to look out front onto the courtyard garden and beyond to the mountains.
From my breezy lounging point I read, I write and I ponder. It’s beautifully peaceful with only the rustling of trees and the ever present birdsong keeping me company. The typing and writing is intermittent as the pondering takes over. My usual soundtrack of “What am I doing?” “Why am I doing it?”, along with the ever present Norman’s useful input of “Why the f*ck am I so lazy” of course.
I feel myself sinking. I am lazy! Who in the real world spends their days just lounging around, watching shite TV and expecting to be ok? My ruminations in full swing, I barely notice the gentle brushing of something on my arm, a gentle tickling right in the crook. I look down and am surprised to see a dandelion wish resting there.
Dandelion wishes may be common as muck back home in the UK, but here in Cambodia it’s the first one I’ve seen and the fact that I’m seeing it today seems like more than chance.
My lovely little sis, Victoria, adores dandelion wishes, regularly heading to the gorgeous Trentham Gardens to visit the giant sculptured ones that dance in the wind all around the park and today, this little one landing on me reminds me that she is here with me, believing in me and supporting me every step of the way.
I won’t lie, the first forty years of mine and Victoria’s relationship were a pretty bumpy ride but we’re now in an amazing place of mutual love, support, respect and trust which means so much to me. I’m so proud to be big sister to such an amazing woman who not only has tenacity, drive and a work ethic that I can only marvel at but is also an awe-inspiring mother to my two gorgeous nieces Emily and Grace. I see so much of myself in Emily as she transitions from cute kid to awkward teen and the patience with which Victoria deals with her and supports her through her process of self-destruction and out the other side is wonderful to watch.
Yep, I am now crying as I’m writing but it feels good though, cathartic and in some way helping to shift something that’s got stuck in me.
I read for a while, sipping on a builders brew which whilst inducing a sweat worthy of its own bucket refreshes none the less. A large yellow and black butterfly flutters gently back and forth in the growing breeze. Heading directly into the wind and seemingly making little progress doesn’t seem to bother it, it just hovers patiently and waits for the breeze to abate when once again it floats hither and thither before resting momentarily on a leaf, or a sill to recover it’s breath before heading off once more. What a metaphor for my life. At times I float effortlessly on the breeze, basking as I do what I love, taking a rest from time time to recoup. Now all I have to do is master not battling against my self-induced head on draught – the words I say to myself that batter and buffet me about stopping me making progress. Like the butterfly I need to become accepting of this as a phase, knowing it will pass and I can again return to floating and resting.
My poetic reverie is shattered by a clatter and I look up to see my crazy ass cleaner stumble out of an apartment, dressed in a colourful mishmash of clothing, floppy hat covering her eyes and loaded down with bedding and bog rolls but grinning at me like a Cheshire cat. She proceeds to make a fish wife like call to her mate downstairs before heading over to talk ten to the dozen to me in Khmer whilst I smile and nod inanely without a clue what is being said. And I’m reminded of the answer to my ruminations about “what am I doing?” and “why am I doing it?”
Living in a beautiful country, basking in the love and friendship of wonderful, kind, fun loving, crazy ass people and supported by my wonderful family and friends back home I’m channelling my inner butterfly and becoming me (to coin one of my sis’s favourite phrases – the perfectly imperfect me) one cray adventure at a time.