THINGS WERE A LITTLE DIFFERENT

So things were a little different this time. I arrived home to a very different scene... And I was heartbroken. It was bizarre. Surreal. When I got home I had no idea what to do - I mean it as though I was faced with the decision to turn a corner but there was SO many corners... And they were all so pretty.

Enfluenza made mince meat of my body, causing much illness and darn it! Not alot of goodwill. Why in the name of all things chocolatey did I have to get sick on my first day back? Quick little tangent: women are only soldiers when they're sick if they have a stack of things to do. That is the true difference between a sick man and a sick woman. A sick man cannot function at all no matter what. And boy do they whinge!! However they don't own the monopoly on this whinge mechanism (designed to bring sympathy and goodies - not that it will work). We too whinge. But when we have an army to face, we get on with it and do it. Pneumonia or no pneumonia. Tangent over.

So now I'm sick. My mother pulls the car up to the driveway and then turns to me and says, with this slightly maniacal smile, "you do know that Stephi's dead hey?" My mother says that my shocked reaction was the most emotional that anyone in the family had had.

Pause while you check the previous post to see how lovingly I described our dearly departed Stephi. I may or may not have said that we all wanted her to die. This is how the start of the vac begins.

Now I'm in the house and my dad says that he'll hug me later - soccer is on and he's involved. To wit: "Soccer does funny things to my emotions". Then they leave me to huddle in our frigid house with no poodle to cuddle around my feet - keeping them hot.

So things were a little different today. They involved a dead dog, no parents, a brother in a different town, a possibly new sister-inlaw and flu. I'm telling it was surreal. Words cannot describe. Life is indeed a funny creature.

'Home sweet Home' - How you know

How do you know that you're home? What is the sign that says: 'I've arrived'? I think it's phenomenally different for every person. For some it's the drowsy feeling that smacks you like a feather in the forehead as you sink into your bed that night. Others might say that it's the food, or that indescribable and innate smell that wafts through your house and your house alone. Is it that chip of paint on your door? Or is it the mere sight of your family? The possibilities are endless and each is heart-renderingly special.

But enough of poetic ramblings. I want to share about how I know that I am home. I think it's different for me in the sense that I was home-schooled and so many (including myself and my family - though in a sweet and endearing manner of course) will be of the mind that university is the well-deserved reward for all those years spent literally at home. Both parent and child no longer have the deep desire to see each other as they were quite up close and personal for majority of the secondary educational years. This also accounts for the lack of contact during term-time.

Anyhoo... This is how I know that I am home. This is the scene: car has just arrived with me in it and we are all in the process of getting my stuff from the car to my room with three dogs running boisterously around the a)garden, b) house and c) car. So now all four of us are in the same vicinity with three dogs acting like they've been ingesting some form of narcotic (my dad thinks they're on crack).

Opinions rage but the good thing is that they are all about the same things. Of course not everyone will have the same opinion at the same time. No no no, we must all have a different opinion as everyone else at the time, but these opinions work on a rotary system. It's like a rule. Thou shalt not have the same opinion as anyone else at the same time ast they do but thou wilt share that self same opinion at different moment. They follow this religiously - much like they were under the impression that if they were all to just agree on something at the same time it would be similar to plagiarism. These opinions range from: 'Why does she have so much luggage', 'She has far too much luggage', 'What's for supper and will we get to it in time if all we're going to be doing for the next century is moving bags from a car that will be relatively out of date by the time we get done', etc...

Amidst the sea of protest are the dogs. At this point I must explain our dogs that are supposedly drug addicts. Stephi is the poodle that no one wanted in the first place (we're all 'big dog' ppl). She is the stereotypical poodle that relies on quivering and yapping to get her through the day. She also cannot eat when someone is in the room and likes to scratch the backs of knees off anyone returning home from a long term. Whilst we all want her to die she does have her uses. She will warn us of anyone coming up the road from as far as 7kms. Special isn't she. Pippin is German Shepherd/Lab who thinks she is the same size as the poodle and will try to jump into my arms (that are full of bags) to prove it. Jemma is the queen. She is a King Rotweiller/Boerbull/Boxer that feels that it is her duty to growl, snap and generally punish the other dogs for whatever they are attempting to do when we are trying to get back and forth between the car and house. Due to her age she sometimes misses Pippin or Stephi in her attempt to snip them.

Cacophony of noise ensues: ppl are interrupting their soliloquies/opinions to shout at the dogs (or scream in agony depending on which dog), dogs are yowling and generally making excited noises.

And this is how the pastor and his family arrive back home with his pride and joy, the heir to family millions... Me.

But still I am not home. It is only when the pjs are on and I am in the lounge with all three dogs on lap and Father of the Bride II is on the television... And my dad has come to kiss the top of my head, given me a crushing hug and told me: 'Is daddy's precious home? Is my little piggie going to watch videos on MY tv and eat all MY food for a month and make sure that I never get to watch anything I want even though I pay for it?' This is all said tongue in cheek and earns the satisfied smile of a daughter who knows that her father is delighted that she is home even though she will dutifully fulfill all of the above.

It is after all of that, especially the conversation that takes place between father and daughter, that gives me that feeling that: YEAHBOY - I'M HOME!!!! The peace that settles in my heart is only interrupted my deep yearnings for all of those I've left at Rhodes. And even then... Well lets just say that the feeling passes with the next major turbulent sea of opinions that is emitted from the kitchen as everyone argues about what is a)FOR supper, b)what SHOULD BE for supper and c)what we'll eat if we don't want a motherless house.

And that is just a mere 10minutes after I have arrived.

In the Beauty

In the moment... I love being in the moment, but moments fade away and all we're left with is the afterglow. Even then I am happy, because to be in the afterglow is similar to basking in the sunlight, knowing that there are numerous things that require attention, but also that this sunlight deserves the few seconds of lap-time (whereby you 'lap' up the sun). So bask in the memory of the moment. I know that many more moments will happen, and they will be stupendous (note my non-usage of the word 'great'), but can they ever top each other? I don't think they can - they are all so different.

Why am I blogging this? Why do I ever blog anything? My posts are always so weird and don't seem to be connected to anything in particular, but I like to 'write'. I like putting my thoughts down. I've been told that my blog is 'deep' and at times worrying... I was even told that it was surprising that a deep blog came from me. Hehe. That's actually quite funny - because I suppose I understand why no one would think that I have any real depth: I don't appear to be that serious.

I'm blogging this post because it relates to the fact that we often don't see or capture the moments when we're neck-deep in exams. To appreciate the moment fully is one of those things that we do - but need to remember to do. It's not often that we bask in the afterglow of the moment. It's like going to sleep after walking that special friend home - after chatting and laughing so much your side hurts and you giggle as you walk home (much to the consternation of the security guard) - and then lying in bed and thanking God for that friend and re-living the conversation in you head. Taking in the sunlight of the moment that you just shared, because that exact moment cannot be repeated. And that's just fine. Because the next moment will be fantabulous!!

That last thought is SO great - because it also means that an icky moment can never be repeated in the same way - YAY for that!!!

The complete arbness of this post shall now end.