When yesterday comes a knocking ✊

You remind me of what used to be and could’ve been. A yesterday that seemed so sure, a tomorrow that was so certain. My hand in yours and all worries faded. My perfect escape from a fragile reality.

Now you threaten the one I have and yours too. We both live in worlds apart, cast in stone with our heart keepers. Worlds we built without each other, happy ones for the most part.

Your unannounced return creates a flutter I barely remember but sets me aglow. Heart summersaults that keep me on edge. We revived a side of us that was long buried; yet we’re both eager to explore.

An excavation that may lead to buried treasures at the end of the tunnel. But that set to collapse the castles we built above us. Our legal duty binds us. Our emotional butterflies grow restless encaged. Your moral compass points due South; while mine sounds the alarm for true North.

Yes, to dream of what was and what could have been. Yes, to silently delve in unchartered waters. Yes, to prance on the wild side and seek relief from uncertainty. The excitement beckons, curiosity seeks us out, the unknown summons our whet appetites.

But my castle firmly established, my world and it’s hinges designed by choice. It’s decorations created in love. It’s moat deeply formed by security.

All a stern reminder that what was has passed. What could’ve been is not. The unknown treasures buried beyond our reach. The allure, a distorted illusion of inaccurate record, warped emotions, forgotten truths of the people we no longer are.

I bid you and our yesterdays goodbye. I pay a deaf ear to the purported future that could be. I stand aware, ever-present in my now. As ruler of my castle and keeper of my beloved one’s heart. I stand at the post of my watchtower affirmed of my position.

I bow not to winds of yesterday, or delusions of unauthenticated tomorrows. I stand upright sure of my today and focused solely on my forever after.

Remember the good ol’ 1990s…

I sit here on a warm, windy Durban day on the last day of November. Waving at my two year old daughter as she walks to the gate of the complex we live in. She picks up a leaf and runs with it to me and says; ‘look’. I say ‘wow’ in the most amazed and fascinated tone possible, she says something in gibberish including the word happy in between and proceeds to go back and play. I’m left sitting on the tarred driveway, watching her go, play and identify birds and bugs. It’s a daily thing; weather permitting.

Even in the complex she is always in my line of sight. It’s not safe, it’s never safe. That’s the life we live in 2020. Anyone can run over her while she plays in the driveway or pick her up and kidnap her for ransom or traffic her for who knows what. It’s not a long driveway but it has many blind spots. She could turn the corner and that’d be the last I see of her.

She’s busy counting ants that are climbing up the wall. She’s happy to be able to play outside. I’m happy to watch her play, however, I’m always vigilant, I’m never too far away, I’m always within reach. All she has to do is turn around and I’m here, call and I’ll answer.

My skin turns red in the hot sun, even at 26 degrees the sun is unforgiving, the breeze helps when it remembers to blow. She plays in the shade enjoying the breeze. But even when in the sun she barely notices it. For her playing outside is the best activity of the day. It beats eating and sleeping put together.

This is not what my childhood looked like. Mine was filled with play time alone somewhere in our yard. It was a fairly huge property with four corners. Obviously, as a child it would seem very huge but the reality is it just was. There was an area dedicated to an orchard of trees. The other side had a flower rockery which boasted both flowers and trees (my favourite was the jacaranda tree, which made a beautiful purple carpet on the ground). The other side had meters and meters of well trimmed lawn with surprise areas of flowers hidden all around. The other corner made up the vegetable garden (my father’s specialty) with mealies, leafy greens, onions, tomatoes, carrots and peas; while the vegetables were seasonal the sugarcane was a permanent feature. It was any child’s paradise. I played for hours and hours. With brief sessions of grasshopper catching, digging up mole hills, tree climbing, baking mud pies to flower arrangements (to my mother’s dismay who is an avid flower gardener). In those days it was safe, the only fear parents may have had is of snakes popping up. As a kid I had no fear at all. I recall being stung by bees as I danced on the jacaranda flower carpet. Being stung by wasps while I poked at their nests under the windowsills. I got scrapes and bruises from climbing up trees and thorns stuck in my foot and palms ever so often. And side lip cuts from sugarcane peeling (if you know, you know😂🤣). I was always unsupervised, except for the occasional call from an adult to find out where I was playing, I played for hours on end especially over the weekend.

But my daughter has to have her mom very close by because 2020 has brought out the worst in people. South Africa is riddled with reports of infants and toddlers being raped and/or killed by relatives, parents and people who should be guardians. The idea makes my tummy churn. Sometimes I wish I could keep my daughter in a bubble, away from all the harm that could befall her. In a land where black people are a majority, my daughter is likely to be a victim of racism not only by non-black people but by black people themselves. She may be a victim of violent abuse with the increase of day care centres that have carers hitting, dragging and abusing children. She may be a victim of armed robbery or home invasion even at this age. She could be a victim of bullying in and out of school. I shudder to think of this and many other scenarios; so much so my heart is set on homeschooling her.

But for now I’ll settle for a game of peek a boo, while she hides behind a short corner and imitates a lion’s roar to scare her mommy. And silently wish she had grown up in the 90s at number 4 Ironkop Road.

Turn your face to the SUN ☀️

Generally, it’s hard to look directly at the sun. Those warm beautiful rays are blinding. And so it’s easy to look away and not even try. Besides who wants to be half blind anyway?

Sometimes life is blinding too. It takes turns we never thought it could; sometimes these turns are a result of our decisions, someone else’s or unforeseen occurrences. Often we are left reeling from these turns and twists of life. In some cases, they knock us right off our feet, landing on our butts or backs, leaving our heads spinning.

They bring about feelings that erode our well built self esteem. They sow seeds of doubt in who we are and our ability to succeed in anything. These feelings are strongly coated with low self worth, heavily seasoned with disappointment, well garnished with despair and are delicately plated on failure.

While some events leave a bruise on us, some leave a scar. These scars we carry with us, they define us for the best or worst. While the onset of our outcome may not have been directed by us; the one thing we have a hand in is how it affects us. That being said, it’s not an overnight determination but it is your determination nonetheless.

What broke you today, is a building block tomorrow. The art of getting up with grace isn’t how you lift of the ground, it’s the resolution that you are going to lift yourself. Grace follows and is manifest by that resolution. The act of getting up off the floor only happens when you have made a conscious decision to get up off the floor. Whether you jump up, slowly push yourself, shuffle or slowly bubble up, the reality is you left the floor once you made the decision in your mind.

So, back to the sun! Never shy away from hurting your eyes briefly. After the blinding light comes a parade of beautiful colours that can only surface from that one direct look at the sun. Now, chin up and turn your face toward the sun, there’s a colour parade waiting.

Free falling through grief🥺

It’s noisy up here. I can’t really focus. So many scenes playing out, I can’t really keep track of anything. At this point I think I understand the flashing scenes warning put at the beginning of movies- totally bad for you.

A part of me refuses to believe it but if it’s being circulated it has to be true. Why would anyone circulate something so hurtful and dreadful? I wish it wasn’t true. Part of me wishes that my message to you delivers and you text back with the witty nonsense you always send. But I texted yesterday afternoon. You should’ve responded by now.

I feel that feeling I had forgotten. I felt it when my dad died and now it feels all too familiar. It’s like falling with no landing in sight. The strong pull of gravity only into a dark hole, a bottomless pit.

I remember you literally forced me to be your best friend. All those “come sleep over” invitations during the conventions. I know I wanted to be your best friend. It was absurd, giving up a comfortable night’s sleep and morning to travel some 4 hours to and from the convention city just to be with you. Our journey, night and morning spent in laughter, whispers and continuous talk. We could talk about anything under the sun without judgement. I love you and I don’t ever remember telling you that. I guess somehow I felt you knew it because I knew you loved me.

Between talking rubbish about life you were everything I envisioned a best friend ought to be. Beyond all that you loved Jehovah which was more than enough for me to adore you. I know I may not have shown it but I looked up to you – I know even if you were here I’d never say that just in case it went to your head 😂🥺

It had been 12 days since we last spoke, I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner than yesterday. I’ve been caught up with life I guess, I don’t even know what that is because I can’t say what I’ve been busy with. I’m trying to understand how this happened and I don’t get it. You were fine, laughing, making jokes and now you’re dead. How does that work? What happens to all our plans? You were coming in May and now? I guess our plans die with you.

It hurts beyond words, I feel like my heart is going to implode. I know you wouldn’t want this but I can’t help it, I’m sore. You were the only person I shared a nickname with- Tamiqque and Tamika 💞.

By the way we didn’t win much with your work writing assignments but to be honest I just loved writing them for you; winning was never the point. I enjoyed how we worked together to get the pieces out. I really was just writing them for you Ta; no matter how much I complained – I wanted to write them for you.

And I’m sorry I couldn’t find you that tall, dark and handsome guy you so wanted me to find. But I’m sure there’ll be a whole lot of them after resurrection. I can’t wait to see you then. I love you my best friend Tamar Tamiqque Precious Chitsambi.

Life took us in so many different directions but we always found our way back to each other. Like two people feeling for each other in the dark. You were always a true friend to me. I’m grateful for all the love, laughter and unsolicited advice(😂🤣) that you gave. I will truly miss you.

Met between ages 6-8, died at 34. 😢😭 Catch you later sweets 🥺

For old times sake: 🗣TAMAR

L-Jay Moments

From the moment I first laid eyes on you, I was hooked. All the pain of getting to that point faded away. You clung to me for dear life and inside I clung to you too.

From the first time you cried it seemed my whole world shattered because all I wanted to do was make sure you were fine.

From the first time those little fingers entangled themselves around my finger, you had me – hook, line and sinker. When you call I come running, when you speak I answer, when you smile I smile back.

Your father and I see nothing but you. You weaved your way not just into our lives but into our hearts and now we cling to you. The idea of not being there for you scares me. To the point I am afraid for you to sleep in a cot🙈

Our lives revolve around you. You don’t call for meetings often, so when you do we know there’s something seriously wrong.

You have captured the hearts of so many but most of all; your mom and dad. I have no idea how we spent 7 years without you; what were we thinking?!

Those tiny feet that push on anything in their way, those little hands that grab fingers and even clothes, that gorgeous smile that melts the hardest of days, that cute button nose taken from your dad and those piercing brown eyes that see beyond the superficial.

You have lit up our lives like never before; you have taken over every aspect of who we are and we’re not complaining- we love every moment of it.

Our beautiful and loved Miss Lauren Jay (L-Jay)

Our hearts beat for you.

Love mom and dad😘😍

Superwoman is a Momma

I have no words for mothers. How do you do it? Where does the energy come from? You barely sleep, you lend those beautiful perkies to become natural feeding packs and wake up the next day and go to work. How on earth do mothers do it and do it more than once?

I had no idea having a baby was a full time job, that requires a mother’s full attention every minute of the day. Right from the time you open your eyes there are these gorgeous eyes, cute nose and supple lips waiting on you to protect and serve.

To all the mothers out there with or without assistance; I salute you. The world truly is hinged on your backs. And this one goes out to my mom who gave service three times. You are indeed superwoman!

Maternity Leave 🎟

I was one of those people who associated maternity leave with mom’s-to-be sitting at home, busy organising their newborn’s room or clothes or something and then in a few days they give birth and ‘voila’ it’s on to mothering. Well may I say that is so not how it works.

Instead of ‘nesting’ (a fancy word for readying things for baby), there’s pain in your pelvis, thighs, calfs, lower extremity joints and plus you start to do the Donald Duck waddle. And for some of us, we get to roll out of bed each time we need to get up. And then there is the back pain that seems to go up five notches. And your favourite seat in the lounge feels like a glorified bench. The arch in your back created to support your grown tummy needs support.

Now I know each woman has a different pregnancy experience due to many factors, but I’m a 33 year old woman with a back that seems like it will break any minute! I also know no one has the 411 on pregnancy but everywhere I read says all the above is normal!😱

So the next time you think maternity leave is a vacation prelude to childbirth think again: it’s the supposed calm before the storm!

For L-Jay

So it’s almost time for you to meet me and your dad. I can tell that these days you are aware of his presence, considering that you begin to stir when you hear his voice and just one rub and you are shifting all over the place.

What you may not feel are the soft good morning kisses he gives you before he leaves for work or the gentle goodnight cuddles and cradling when he falls asleep. But that’s your dad for you. He loved you from the day he knew you were on your way. And that love seems to be driving him slightly insane.

Right now he has bought you a play mat which you probably won’t use for a while. I randomly see him browsing on the internet for information on the stages of your growth when you arrive. And I recently saw him shopping online for 4-6 year old’s dresses😂

He is the sweetest guy ever and you have exposed a side to him that I never knew. It took us six years to have you and now I have to learn this man anew. Your presence has brought out deeper love and compassion in him that I may need a ‘dad tutorial’ soon.

For me your presence means a lot of excitement laced with a lot of discomfort. But those movements you make remind me of the little feet, hands, lips, eyes and fingers I get to see soon. The tiny face we get to pepper with kisses. The many moments of cuddles that you will notice and a never ending rain of love from grannies, uncles, aunts, sisters, brothers, cousins and people you will come to know, love and adore.

What you also don’t see is your Nanna fussing over me, not to strain too much, getting foot rubs and food at the drop of a hat. Aunty June giving advice like an expert on pregnancy and childbirth and Aunty Mandy constantly wondering and asking after you. Uncle Nico doing store runs for your every craving. Also every Thursday evening when you fall asleep after the meeting your sister comes and talks to you and threatens to sing. One of your brothers loudly announces himself but obviously you can’t hear him as you do not stir one bit.

So until you arrive, the belly kisses and rubs, cuddles and cradles from daddy will have to do.

Anxiously waiting,

Mom, Dad and a whole lot of others 💞

Freeze the moment 📸

Have you ever noticed how pictures freeze a specific moment in time. Most of us make an effort to make the frozen moment a happy one. We look happy, smiling from our eyes and have a smile pasted on our lips. Sometimes it is so forced that the smile does not show in our eyes.

The point of a photograph is to capture a moment in time, where time is frozen still. Whatever moment it is happy or sad; that is the moment that we have captured.

Today, photographs are so common it’s as though we can capture every moment but we can never capture every single moment of our lives.

I looked at old photographs most had happy people, smiling faces and none were sad. These photographs captured a younger, tomboy character of myself, some captured a budding young lady while others showed the mischief wrinkled in my eyes and lips. There is one where I am laughing and not taking note of the camera but I don’t remember what was funny. The photo itself brings me no joy as what at that moment made me laugh. But it showed me the likely people who made me laugh and for them they warm my heart just by looking at the photograph.

Some pictures dig up old wounds, others remind me of buried grief and a time period in my life where contentment and joy sat in one set of arms.

My photographs from the past don’t come out often but when they do some freeze almost a whole lifetime that I want to relive again. Rather than bringing me comfort and joy some remind of a gaping hole that is not filled within me.

Freeze. Flash. Live

For the Moms 💞

I found myself coming to a realisation that mothers are made from a totally different material of person. They are cut from a much finer cloth, that has super durable strength and never frays.

This all begins when a woman surrenders her body, from being a vessel of living to being a vessel of life. There are amazing things that happen to the female body as it prepares and creates a life chamber for a foetus.

While the miracle is often viewed from how the body makes way for the new being, there comes with it unnatural side effects that every physical attributes to pregnancy. There are bouts of nausea that are termed morning sickness that occur at any hour of the day. I recently discovered that name may be attributed to the fact that it is morning in a different time zone! The nausea turns the scent of your favourite perfume and body bar into the smell of putrefaction. But it doesn’t end there, everyone else around you dons the same stench in differing degrees. There are headaches that never end and are hard to soothe, yet the simplest thing can make them go away, yours is to figure out the art of guessing. Then there are the less graceful effects such as bloating and flatulence, which render you an active volcano – ready to blow at any given moment. And may force your spouse or family to be in serious need of gas masks! Then comes the sleeping beauty syndrome which allows you to fall asleep at the drop of a hat. You fall asleep in good time and wake up tired.

However, that does not take away the fact that there is a tiny miracle forming in you. Growing slowly but surely. I realise mothers are made from more than just woman, they’re made from love, struggle, sacrifice, pain and endurance.

This is for all mothers out there.