A few years ago a friend gave me this quirky hand towel for Christmas. I was puzzled (and delighted) as I'd seen it before but couldn't place it. I decided it must have been the hand towel in the bathroom of the hotel we stayed in Ho Chi Minh city. But from time to time, when I saw it, it would make me think. I wasn't so sure...but I knew it was somewhere.
While staying at my Mum's recently, I saw it! My dad had them. He had them apparently from before they were married or at least before they moved to Japan. He worked Borneo and Malaysia for a few years, then based in Singapore travelled to Hong Kong a lot. So he would have picked them up there. (Towel origin here & here).
I must have seen these insignificant objects all my childhood and yet I never registered them. Which reminds me of something that was said in a Harvard history course I did, that it's the most common objects that get lost to time, as no one thinks they're important enough to keep.
What I found most interesting, was that my brain rummaged through memories and picked a specific moment that it thought was most probable. I could 'see' it hanging in the bathroom, though I couldn't really see the rest of the bathroom beyond the tiles and towel rack. It furnished me with a false memory that I didn't question, though it did nag at something at the back of my brain from time to time.
I think that's why when looking for lost keys you often 'see' them on a desk or hook when they aren't there. You brain is trying to helpfully fill in the blanks for you with probably outcomes.
The light was dramatic so I took this photo one morning, but on my phone, it looked like it was in B&W. When playing with the filters, in the phone library I couldn't tell them apart (the colour and B&W versions). However, less evident on the laptop, in the larger format.
I read 4 books while I was away but since I got back three weeks ago, I've only listened to books, and finished one paperback title which I started while travelling.
That sort of makes me sad but it's where I'm at.
However, these should be available through your library borrowing (if in Australia).
I did not really get into this book. I should have because I found the time period interesting, and the historical location. I also really liked there was a Japanese bomber as well as the Darwin locals, so you got two insights into the events. However, it's too long and I just didn't care by the end. Which I'm sorry to say as I know he's beloved and I really enjoyed Boy Swallows Universe, even though it's not my usual thing. So feel free to correct me.
I really enjoyed this book. I devoured it in 2 days. I know there's been a lot of complaints about this title, and on twitter there was a thread about it being the most overhyped book and biggest let down. I found it the other way around, but I hadn't really heard anything about it except it was about the Insta trad wife craze. I don't follow any of those, and one complaint was that she was so unlikeable, but I thought we were meant to think that, so I found her character funny (laughing at her, not with her) and hypercritical from the start, but I felt that was what we were meant to feel about her. So when she talked about the Angry women, I laughed that I was one of them, and that was how we are viewed. As for implausibility, I read the Shari Franke book, having known nothing about 8 Passengers and that book was unfathomable and yet real. It was completely incomprehensible so I didn't think this was over the top at all. It does perplex me that this trad wife promotion is popular, so I thought it was an interesting insight into the hypocrisy and potential damage of it all - very different to a stay at home mum, please note. I'm not casting shade there. I didn't see what was coming, and it's an easy, fun read.
I picked this book for the title - as my feet are also my focus with age. It's written by the writer of The Dressmaker and covers both ageing and some Hollywood adventures. I enjoyed it but I did at times find it a little depressing. We all age at different rates but as things slow down I lament the fun that will evaporate. I have one crew that love festivals and dancing, but most of my friends do not. With my mum at the moment, her talk of her husband's decline and care was really depressing for me. She covers a lot so I'm pretty sure there's something for everyone in it.
I thought I already wrote a review on this but I can't find it so sorry if I'm repeating myself. He is a very good writer, and at times the work is heavy to process. This is a memoir style, and a flawed human is looking back on moments they feel are significant in some way - but as we humans do, they aren't necessarily what we traditionally call milestones. It jumps around, as our thoughts do. It dresses up others actions and intentions. I spent quite a bit of the book feeling unease (in reviews it is often described as haunting, and I can't argue with that). It's an old man (a character, not Banville himself) writing down his thoughts. It won the Booker Prize in 2005. I enjoyed this a lot but it's not an easy read - I can't really explain why. I had to concentrate a lot more than I usually do for audio books. I think reading this book would be better. (If you do read it, this is quite an interesting discussion - but don't listen to it before, as there are detailed spoilers). My review of Banville's Snow is here.
They're here. Popping up all over Sydney. It's a very brief window in Sydney - 2-3 weeks, but so pretty when you see the burst of pink in your neighbourhood.
For me there is a special buzz when I see that first one!
Today I'll pop out to our tree lined street in the 'hood so see if they're in full bloom yet...
Do you have cherry blossom where you are?
Have you seen them in Japan? We were out of the full season but still saw plenty here.
#Allseasons linky runs from Thursday to Wednesday each week.
Link one post that shows something seasonal. Traditional weather wise, a seasonal nature marker or a seasonal celebration or event. Please link relevant posts only.
Make sure you link back to this #AllSeasons post.
Please comment on the post before yours and the host. Don't dump and run.
This week, the last of my children became an adult. I've no babies left. Except they're all my babies, and always will be, except for now, it's only the mid twenties child that appreciates that.
I work hard to stay in my lane, and be a parent of adults, which is hard - hard if they're at home and hard when they live on their own and you try not to message all the time in between visits.
It looks like the last two of my kids will move out of home next year, though the youngest to college so back and forth a little. This terrifies me - not for them, how wonderful! For me. What does that mean? A large part of the last 20 years has been focused on them. I've arranged my whole life, my work, my ability to work, my outings, my friendships, trips away, being home, every day has been arranged around them and where they need to be or what they need. Instead of breathing a sigh of relief that it's finally my turn, I see empty rooms yawning, a never ending chorus of silence in the house nagging at me and longing. There will be so much longing. I will miss them. I miss who they were and I miss who they are - I don't see them enough, we don't play together enough like we used to, when they were a little gang of primary school kids. Of course, it's normal, and it is enough for them. They have their own lives now. I know that. I don't want to guilt them the way our parents generation guilted us. I don't want our time spent together to be a hassle or obligation. I want it to be fun, maybe even something they look forward to.
I have written before that our job as parents is to learn to be parents of adults. We have to adjust our expectations of control. We have to love and respect who they are. We have to give them their freedom. That can be harder than it should be.
Especially as for many of us, it is an era over. It is time that we treasured and now grieve. But we shouldn't. Putting together the slide show for the party, I was inundated with so many moments of love and laughter frozen in time. The trio that played together, my permanent entourage, then the inseparable duo, then the lone teen...we had a wonderful life all together, but she's been an only child for awhile now. That family time that I feel has ended this week really started to dissolve many years ago. As it does. As it should.
So maybe it is me that needs to realise I'm all grown up. And that has to be a good thing?
The photo is from the Shuji Terayama Memorial Museum in Misawa. Part of the exhibit, you fossick through his desk drawers with a flashlight and discover the treasures and memories from his life and work. His poems refer to his love-hate relationship with his mother, and I hope my kids only have fondness for me, not tainted like his. But I felt the picture was a reflection of my mourning of being a childless mother.
