London, a love story
A tourist, pictures and places, passing through with excitable awe,
Promising to return for a longer stay, head and a heart full of future.
Seeking prospects, property, aspirations but ignoring lovelife all around.
A student, scary intrigues leading to even more fearful examination,
Questions answered by waves of further inquiries, my tribe member found.
Ignoring prospects, property, aspirations and seeking lovelife all around.
An immigrant, waiting for approval, that can only be found from a hug,
Daydreams distract from the desperation, a friendly family formed.
Low prospects, lovely property, high aspirations, ugly lovelife by the sea.
An assistant, commuting underground, fighting grabby hands and leers,
To find dramatics both in work and play, Olympic Jubilations embraced.
High prospects, ugly property, low pay, lovely lovelife in the city.
A girlfriend, leaps to the suburbs and into self employment hoping to find a net,
Commuting, compromising, charging ahead, creating a home together.
Low rent, freelancing pay and exploring everything London has to offer.
A wife, seeking a persistent living to charge career ahead but sexism governs,
Travelling, compromising, struggling yet deciding to create a life together.
High rent, underpaid employment and exploring everything online about babies.
A mother, scared, breaking, struggling every second and searching for relief,
Frightening forces of love fling me through isolation, learning what true strength is.
Seeking futures for two, domestic servitude and anxious explorations in parenthood.
A house parent, nervous enthusiasm met with continual resistance and struggles,
Full on schedules chain me to six more lives, challenging everything I thought I knew.
Seeking futures for the masses, educational servitude and expanded views in parenthood
Cold sweat forms on my brow as I carefully look over the information on the screen. I go to push the button and the last decade flashes through my mind. My head begins to float as I try to remember purchasing my first one-way ticket to London.
But I can’t.
I remember selling my car to pay for it. I remember having to purchase it last minute. I remember thinking how foolish I was for not saving more over the last year. I remember sitting with my parents trying to both “kill” time and make it stop while waiting in the airport before the first leg of my journey. I remember trying to burn my families’ images, voices and embraces into my brain. I remember trying not to cry too much and to focus on the moments ahead.
I remember trying to appear strong but feeling like I was made out of sugar glass.
Things are very different in America now. As am I. A girl left but now will return as a woman. Have I changed for the better? How has my family members changed? How has the job market changed? How has the political atmosphere altered? These are all things running through my head.
It’s bought. Three one way flights to the U.S. It’s happening. BLIMEY. Not that this is a spur of the moment decision. We have discussed it for years, it took 14 months for us to go through the Visa process, several months of downsizing / packing up family possessions and a month to make Peaches an American citizen. So. This is happening!!!
Wait, I’m confused, what is happening…..
...oh let me explain. In July my South African partner and British daughter are moving to America with me. There will be some alterations to the blog/instagram as we transition. Some further delays in posting may be possible (as we do not even own laptops anymore… whhhhhhhhat. #DOWNSIZING). But. I will keep the writing up - in whatever form it may evolve into. I am still a dummie. The writing will continue, I hope you dear reader, will come along for the ride.
My writing has been a little lost since we began our boarding adventure. Our current living situation plays a large part of that, most of my writing about boarding life is kept private to protect those under our care.
So that is one excuse. Another is illness - I seem to catch everything that goes around the school. Germs, germs, germs. Cannot totally escape them. The plus side? Peaches should have one hell of an immune system!
My third excuse is mourning.
My paternal Grandfather passed away. He knew it was coming and was more ready than we, his family. He would have good days and bad days battling from inside a hospital bed in Texas. For 56 Days I shifted between sporadic crying, optimism, and of just feeling numb. Days where my daughter grew up just a little. Kids are intuitive, knew she needed to put those pudgy arms around my neck, gently rub my shoulder and ask if I as “Okay mum? Okay?” I am not.
I am now Grandpa-less.
Peaches had yet to and now will never meet him. That bothers me.
What bothers me the most is that I spent so much time being angry with him. For what? I am not entirely sure. I can only guess that I thought he owed me something, because instead of sticking around our home state year-round, he decided to travel. How dare he, right? How dare he live his life to the fullest, instead of waiting around for his growing grandchildren to decide to visit every blue moon.
I can only think that this anger was due to my childhood ignorance, my selfishness but also because of the great memories of holidays spent at theirs. I felt they were denying me more memories.
Kids always want more.
The ones I have are full of love. He was a good dude. A genuinely GOOD DUDE. He was funny, kind, open minded, generous, silly, intelligent, creative and an artist. He was a lot of things to a lot of people. Including a brilliant partner of 67+ years to my Grandmother. My GPA loved and was loved fully in return.
I would like to share a quote from one of his favourite books, “Breakfast of Champions” by Kurt Vonnegut.
“A flying saucer creature named Zog arrived on Earth to explain how wars could be prevented and how cancer could be cured. He brought the information from Margo, a planet where the natives conversed by means of farts and tap dancing. Zog landed at night in Connecticut. He had no sooner touched down than he saw a house on fire. He rushed into the house, farting and tap dancing, warning the people about the terrible danger they were in. The head of the house brained Zog with a golfclub.”
He would bring this part up frequently in our discussions on life, but he could never stop himself from giggling.
In a bittersweet realisation I have just had - it is about a failure of communication.
Not an instructional blog but the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth - so help me Mom.