“And In That Moment I Swear We Were Infinite” 

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

Ouma’s room felt calm with soft light… she looked worse and better then I imagined – making no sense at all I am. She is nothing like the woman she use to be, but when I lay down beside her, she took my face in her hands and I felt like heaven had just touched me.

It was the most incredible soft, lingering, tender, loving feeling of adoration that came from her. Sweeping movement of her soft hand on my hair… such comfort I have not felt. She is the one dying and yet I felt she was giving to me… I was enough. I WAS ENOUGH!!

She spoke every now and again a few audible sentences… she said she is happy with the life she has had, that she loves me, that I am a ‘dierbare kind’… she told Noid that she raised me from the time I was one month old… that she was so happy when I was born that she cried for weeks… she said I was her first grandchild and her favourite, she told me over and over again how happy she is to see me, she asked if I was happy with Noid and if we will get married.. she asked me if he will look after me.. she specifically asked to see Kevin.. my heart was sore for him because him and I did this together not so long ago with Oupa…. She said she is so glad that I came, she loves me.. I said I love her and thank you for everything and and and ….and all the while I didn’t want her to stop touching me.  It was the most tender and intense love I have felt in a very long time – as in overwhelming complete peace and contentment – healing. I wanted to drink it in and have it run smoothly inside my body, fill me up with tenderness and love. It was beautiful.

I never want to forget how I felt. Ever.

It does not matter to me what is physically wrong with my gran. I don’t mind her dying because I saw her LIVE.  I don’t know if she will be with us for a few more hours, days or weeks… I feel content in knowing that she loves me and that I love her and that’s enough. I will miss her so much, but I am so glad she was my Ouma Chrissie… and the person who I slept next to, holding her hand for the first eleven years of my life.

When we got home, I lay in the darkness. Craving the silence, seeking that contentment, I climbed under the dovet in an effort to feel more ‘protected’ – snug – a hug almost .. . I closed my eyes and pretended the fan was raindrops and that I could almost smell the cinnamon from the pancakes.

As the wind blew the curtain, I hoped there was a life after this one… one in which Ouma will find Oupa waiting and they will once again walk hand in hand as they did for 57 years.

“Love is stronger than death even though it can’t stop death from happening, but no matter how hard death tries it can’t separate people from love. It can’t take away our memories either. In the end, life is stronger than death.” – Unknown

Written 11 Feb 2009… Ouma died on the 7th of March 2009, and was buried on this day, 14 March 2009.

I wish you enough,

Wenchy

♡ “And In That Moment I Swear We Were Infinite” is a memorable quote from the 1999 coming-of-age novel “The Perks of Being a Wallflower” by Stephen Chbosky. It is one of my favourite books ever.♡

Comma

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

You were my first love as a little  girl. Waiting for you to come home from the Airforce. 

A R5 tucked into my hand when nobody looked. The first man to buy me perfume.  A comfort after my father died. 

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… He believes in me, I don’t know what he sees in me …

… trespassing on a farm outside Clarens in August 2008. We parked our day old 4×4 on the highest, smallest ledge on a koppie, after playing in the stream.

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

From the beginning he was all in. While I analysed the unexpected love, devotion and absolute certainty he possessed about our future (not to mention the chunks of sexy that was coming my way), he was mixing our CD’S and DVD’s which at the time closed my throat with anxiety.

I came into the relationship with a healthy dose of fear, a mountain of debt, a geyser that kept flooding the basement and many children.

By the time he unpacked a reasonable amount of books, I felt more at ease with whatever amount of baggage he came with.

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42 you said?

Dear friends, family and other interesting creatures,

Some bonds cannot be broken. Not even in death.

It may be 17 years since Tim died, but I had a very real sense of him yesterday. I could not understand why he lingered yesterday. Nothing out of the ordinary happened. Usually I am able to pin point an emotional from him, a smile, a look in his eye – yesterday I just felt him here.

He always visits, sitting on the right hand side of the bed, regardless of venue. Before he died, we had never even been in a bedroom together before.

Seeing Tim isn’t scary or creepy. It can be both comforting and heart breaking. Sometimes I smile, other times I feel renewed grief.

I am not big on “speaking to the dead”, or “crossing over”. I’m merely relating that somehow Tim keeps contact. Often followed up the next day or two in a quote or a song, an item that was of value only to us.

Have you ever experienced anything like this?

I wish you enough,
Wenchy

The Nocturnal Wenchy

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Dear Tim,

I’ve told you before. The thing with death is, I have no new pictures of you. So I had to improvise a little.

As I have been preparing for my Grahamstown festival trip next month, I could not help but think of you. Do you remember?

You were in school uniform. Matric blazer. I was sitting on the steps of the church on the square in Grahamstown. I went to a private school so no uniform. I remember I was wearing a very stretched out purple jersey and brown leather shoes I had bought at the festival.

(Remains the most expensive shoes I’ve ever owned. Haha! I would much rather buy books. I had no idea at the time how much purple was still to follow.)

The sun was setting.

You came and sat next to me. I had never seen you before. You sat, silently. I remember…

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I winked and you were gone.

Dear Kev, Liam James and Victoria,

I miss you tonight with a pain so intense in my chest, it makes breathing difficult. Tears burns my eyes silently.

Remember when we were all we had?

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Burning marshmallows over a candle on the bedroom floor because I was a “cool” mom like that? I always wanted to be a Mom.

All four of us sleeping in the same room because we didn’t feel safe? Kev doing us all a favour really…

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Fighting to get Liam James to put his socks on for school…or get out of bed … or brush his teeth … and “I’m sorry” letters late at night that made me cry.

Walking into the house and smell Kev made dinner. Never had any working mother given bigger thanks than I. Thanks my boy.

Victoria and her pet snails, chatting to the kids next door through a wire gate, and always wanting a story, which I most often felt too exhausted to read.

I’m sorry I stopped baking cookies from scratch. I was sad. I’m sorry I could not keep every drawing you ever made, although I wanted to. I’m sorry all three of you know how to deal with a person having a panic attack. I’m sorry I wasn’t more fun and I wish I didn’t take growing you so seriously… I worried a lot. We did laugh plenty at weird stuff nobody seemed to get. We still do.

To be honest, it was the worst of times inside my heart. I congratulated myself when we got through another day – fed, clothed, home work done, most school uniforms located.

I felt thankful that you all pretended to be so strong when I clearly wasn’t. I’m sorry I had no sense of humour when Lee changed lunches around as it pleased him. We were late dammit Liam!

You inspired me to always try again tomorrow. I always felt I could try be better tomorrow. You always loved me enough to give me hope. I was always saying sorry. Until this day, you say “it’s okay”. Thank you for new mercies every day.

Now? I regret I didn’t read you more stories. I wish you didn’t have to grow up. I regret we didn’t swim more together, although none of us could afford to pay Kev to get in the pool! I wish for a million more nights of bedtime to tuck you in.

Every night I wonder where you are, if you are okay, if I gave you enough skills to live life. All grown up, living life and stuff.

Almost 23h00. Soon I shall take my evening medication and chemicals will thankfully take over until morning.

Sometimes I don’t want to think. Coward I am.

I love you more …. and I’m sorry for my many mistakes. You deserved better.

I wish you enough,

The girl who happened to be called Mom by the #originalcast

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You’ll Never Walk Alone

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

My first real, solid true love…. The very first anything I felt was MINE.

He never gives up on me. He will fight for me and he will fight with me. He will care for me … while sighing a lot. 🙂 He will drink vodka with me. He will play guitar and sing for me.

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For the good times

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,
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This reminded me of beautiful you,  Victoria . My youngest biological child.

The way you use to look at me with wonder when you were little.

I told you if they could one man on the moon, why couldn’t they put all of them there?  🙂 

You seemed to think I knew answers.

I love you chicken little.

I’m sorry for the bad times,  let’s raise a cup of tea to the good times. #theoriginalcast

I wish for you never to be afraid of depth.

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Momma xxx

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.. so lui die ou, ou sprokie my kind

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As die reën van stof en roet verby is
en die rook verdwyn
Sal daar in die sterrelose hemel
‘n neonboog verskyn

En kyk maar goed,
want as jy hom vind
vertel ek vir jou ‘n sprokie my kind,
van ‘n skatkis met ou kettings gebind
aan die neonboog se punt

Volg hom elke nag oor swart riviere
Oor kranse van beton,
as jy aanhou stap
tien duisend ure
sal jy dalk daar kom

Maar hier moet jy jou nimmer laat bind
want so lui die ou, ou sprokie my kind,
As jy geluk en vreugde wil vind
soek die neonboog se punt

Volg hom elke dag oor swart riviere
kyk nie eenmaal om
Dalk vind jy die land van blou saffiere
en dalk ‘n brokkie son

Sprokie vir ‘n stadskind – Koos du Plessis

Ek weet,  en jy weet en dis genoeg. –  Toy

Stel xxx

 

A Tumbleweed dancing in the light of the moon.

Dear friends and other interesting creatures,

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It was cold the day I arrived at Tumbleweed Cottage in McGregor. A crisp kind of cold where you don’t shiver, but you would not say no to a mug of the coffee from Strictly Coffee in Robertson which I had become accustomed to while visiting these little patches of vibrantly alive dorpies.

Besides, I had discovered a true gentleman with a winning smile in the owner, Hanno Schwartz. I rate a feeling of belonging highly on my scale of returning. My head always thinking too much, with a heart born from sentimentality, which my also be the death of me.

All this, while indulging in their delicious, banting friendly breakfast and cappuccinos. I admit, I did not expect these little towns to know about banting and was pleasantly delighted when in conversation I realized they didn’t just think “low carb”, they had done their homework. I watched as Hanno checked each plate as it left his kitchen. Winner, right there.

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Tumbleweed Cottage looked like my white picket fence would have, had I ever had one. The kind where the look is a feeling, and in reality had nothing to do with fences dressed in white.

The front door had a trick to opening it. Once inside, I dumped my signature purple luggage,  breathed in and exhaled a smile.  It was perfect.

Clean lines, modern yet rich in history. Quiet but not silent. Open space without feeling lost. I walked towards the window overlooking the backyard.

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The white paint of the outbuildings in contrast with the deep blue plunge pool water. For a moment I lingered over the space where I imagined children laughing in the pool in warmer weather, the unique smell of South African braai fires, adults sitting on the back stoep enjoying the ample grape selection of the surrounding wine estates.

I turned around, curious to see what the rest of the space held. The lounge with an inviting fireplace caught my eye. I made a mental note to get wood. It was cozy while big enough to cater for a family. Rich leather seating you melted in, with a throw neatly arranged to curl up under. I noticed a Tumbleweed hanging from the roof. I love attention to detail.

The kitchen was not very large, but big enough for the needs of the cottage. Well equipped with all one may need.  My need went as far as coffee and rusks which was stocked in the cottage. The blends from Strictly Coffee was clearly well supported by the community.

I made a cup,  folding my hands around it for warmth,  stepped out of my shoes and in my socks I explored the huge clay shower downstairs. Felt the textures under my finger. Experience all things with all senses. Towels neatly stacked with a piece of lavender on top,  just so, as you enter the bathroom. Purple whispers. What’s not to love? I disturbed the arrangements as I spread out the towel to see the size. I like big bath towels you can get lost in, oh and two ply toilet paper. A non-negotiable for me.

I walked up the stairs to find the most beautiful main bedroom. A sense of romance. A bath one could read, or be coy in. I imagined my husbands laughter. The room was spacious and light played across the white bedding. A sacred space. I missed @SirNoid as I ran my fingers over the linen. Beautiful. As I walked downstairs, I turned once more for another look. Just in time to invite night to fall eventually on this room of fifty shades of dancing light.

Putting my cup in the sink,  I looked into the second and third bedrooms,  positioned on the ground floor.  One room comprised of two single beds and the other with a rather large bed with a door that opened onto the front stoep.

I decided to make myself comfortable in the bedroom downstairs with the large bed, as travelling alone, I did not want to taint my vision of the romantic loft.

Before I could go in search of wood, a man with a wheelbarrow arrived selling wood. I was very pleased as I was starting to feel the chill. I paid for the wood and probably looking at my purple hair and acrylic enhanced long nails, asked “Kan ek Mevrou help met die vuur?

I naturally accepted and he systematically explained step for step how to make a fire and if I need more wood, he would be back tomorrow.

I smiled, thanked him and asked for a hug. He truly looked shocked, surprised and delighted at the same time. A toothless grin as I hugged him and said I would see him the next day.

White woman offering a coloured man with a wheelbarrow a hug. Clearly was not the usual order of business by his reaction. Well, I’m not a very order of business kinda Wenchy.

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I had a lovely supper out in town at Tebaldi’s at Temenos which is worth an entry all on its own. When I returned, I put the heater on and closed the door to keep the heat captive.

I phoned home. Stretched out under the white, fresh linen and was soon lost in a land where wheelbarrows meant smiles, a Tumbleweed dangled from the moon and I was sipping champagne in a bath, in a room of wonders.

I found in McGregor, dreams could easily become reality. What you thought to be your truth, was easily challenged by the sincerity of a toothless grin.

You should visit… especially if you enjoy watching a Tumbleweed dancing in the light of the moon.

I wish you enough,
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McGregor

McGregor is a small village in the mountains of the Western Cape, South Africa. It is roughly 150 km east of Cape Town. It is located in Ward 5 of the Breede River Winelands Municipality. According to the Census 2001, this Ward has a population of 10,254 people (Stats SA, 2001).
McGregor Accommodation
Contact Mira for accommodation, places to go, things to see and all things country pumpkin around McGregor and the greater community:

Strictly Coffee

Strictly Coffee

  • Facebook:  https://www.facebook.com/StrictlyCoffeeCapeTown
  • Twitter:  @StrictlyCoffee
  • Contact number:  083 270 9668
  • Email:  info@strictlycoffee.co.za

The first time ever I saw your face.

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My darling chicken little,

I miss you tremendously this morning. A sore that runs from my heart to my hands looking for yours and ending in a tear.

♡ #SmileBeautiful.. That is what you taught me. You need to © that shit.

♡ Be kind,  you never know which chapter of their book another person is on. Especially a teenager person…. or an old and frail person like me.  (Stop laughing!)

♡  Go give a random Grade 8 a hug today.

♡ You are funny,  without trying!

♡ You are perfect,  just as you are. (OK,  I’m sorry about that small hereditary illness, but hey… I didn’t choose it either!)

♡  You are an artist in so many ways. It comes with the freedom of never having the explain yourself.  Don’t.

♡ Some people will never get you. That’s OK. You were never meant to be a “one size fits all”.

♡ When I die,  you will inherit all my books. Remember this is not a valuable reason to kill me now!

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I wish you enough unicorns,  fairy dust and empathy to keep you real,  enough rainbows to keep you wishing but mostly enough magic to keep you sparkle.

The flawed Momma xxx

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