11 January. I am grateful for a feeling of peace, of contentment. A day spent with a friend who accepts me as I am, who remembers shared scrambled egg dinners and who reminds me of then. A day spent just being. And an evening surrounded by those I love the most.
30 December. I am grateful for a trip down memory lane and for worlds colliding, a Melissa’s in Parkhurst. Perfection. I loved living in Parkhurst. But I still don’t get why they painted our crisp white wall dog poo brown. Not that I care. But seriously, what were they thinking. I guess there is no going back.
I love a good cup of hot tea. Its comforting. It feels like home. It stills me as it warms me. It is such a simple pleasure that I don’t always ponder. And that I definitely take for granted. Tonight I am grateful for a cup of tea, for the realisation of how therapeutic it actually is. And because it means it’s nearly bedtime.
I found my old recipe book, from when I was ten or so. I have promised to make rusks for the girls and knew I had my gran’s recipe somewhere. I am grateful I kept this old recipe book, not only for the only rusk recipe worth keeping but for the wonderful memory of me and my ouma and a typewriter. I loved those days and my rusks might not be as good as my gran’s but they will be filled with wonderful memories and so much love.
It is beautiful how the early morning sun settles on my chair at the moment. I love my chair. I love it because it reminds me of years of gentle shared moments in Sonnie’s chair on the game farm, the moments I wanted to capture, I love it because Lynn made it for me, I love it because it was one of the last gifts from home, I love it because it envelops me and makes me feel safe. Yes, even little. Today I am grateful for my chair and how it makes me feel.