Sunday 11th February 2024
Today is my folks' wedding anniversary. They had a double wedding, with my mum and her sister being brides. They both sewed their own dresses and it looked like a grand affair. As a youngster, I would pore over their wedding album for ages trying to imagine what life was like before they became parents. The black and white photos looked so clear and definite. There was a hand coloured photo which intrigued me too, that someone had taken the time to try match the colours and make it look real. Of course, the colour makes it look more false but it was fascinating for me.
Looking through my phone albums for the photo of the wedding had me gasp at what my own life looks like. All those places... the people... the fun! Fortunately I have been quite organised with sorting my photos into albums and my searches are easier because of that. It's also a reminder of how much I've been living in the moment. Seeing pictures of our trip to Umhlanga Beach, post lockdown, feels like so long ago, even though it's only 3 years! This trip was the seed that was planted for my home-free travels. I didn't realise it at the time but it was a great reminder of my wanting to live at the sea.
That dream was prevented by a strange belief in 'only rich people live at the sea'. I know how strange that sounds, but when questioned under pressure why I didn't live there, that was an automatic response. These kind of beliefs are often so cleverly hidden by our brain that they seem implausible. But when they pop up to the surface they make strange sense. My body's resistance to moving to the coast was finally explained. Uncovering these gems are important before I make any changes because I want to let go of any resistance. The past 3 years I have been making far less excuses because my body isn't scared. I'm prepared to try things and if they don't work out then I work around them.
But back to my folks... I often wondered how they were as a child free couple, was mum less serious and did dad moan less. Times I'll never know. I wish I had asked mum more questions though, about her life and her dreams. I know I'm living my life so vicariously because she died so young. 56 years is too young, and I appreciate the gift of every new day. Even though I didn't do much today, it was still another opportunity to see the birds and beauty around me.
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