Day 40. Time to think

In September 2012 on September 21, 2012 at 5:02 pm

Today is the last day of term 3 2012, and I suspect the next two weeks may offer only short blogs posts with the 3 wee ones about the place a bit more.

As a result, today I’ve been pondering the concept of ‘time to think’.  Earlier in 2012 I managed to sneak off with some girlfriends for a weekend away: it was the first real opportunity I had to think through my decision to commit to being a more frequent and hopefully a better writer. Inspired by my friendships, a painting (shown here and called The Pinny Girls, artist unknown) and a walk, I wrote this.

Me, her and you.

There’s a shrine at the peak of a steep hill overlooking the ocean at Lennox Head. Below the cards and flowers, dark rocks and sliding mud lead down to the sea. The wind pushes you back, away from the edge.

Here a teenage girl leaped to her death a few months ago.

Twenty odd years ago we were that age too; fortunately, our lives and minds never knew that kind of despair. As a group of eight educated together, we faced the world with a quiet confidence and sense of unity. We didn’t know then that ahead lay failed relationships, career crises, the illnesses and deaths of parents, unborn babies and countless days of desperate parenting tiredness.

And yet now that all that has indeed happened, we are alright. Mostly, we are happy. We look forward.

We meet for three nights away from reality and to celebrate the year of turning 40. Old group habits are hard to throw off. Hours are spent styling hair, applying makeup and choosing outfits prior to dinner and drinks at local venues. We wonder how the men in the local pub manage to control their certain urge to flirt with us. Rejected, we stagger back to the beach house to swap more tales of celebrity sightings, social media tricks and the soap operas created by our extended families.

Amongst us is a first pregnancy. A new baby girl will be born in several months, and we’re all trying our darnedest to pass on the one solid piece of advice which will prevent heartache. Deep down we know there is nothing we can do or say which can deliver such a guarantee.

But rest assured the Pinny Girls will be there for the ride. Laughing, crying, watching; there.

Me, her and you.


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