To The Dawn.

‘Play with me?’

The small cat canters down the darkened hallway. It’s early, and most of the occupants of the house are sleeping. This is our time, but we need to be very quiet.

I’m not wearing my glasses, once again, for once again I can’t find them.

This is normal.

The small cat has eyes for this sort of thing. I do not. Once, many years ago, I may have, but that time has passed. It was possibly around the time I noticed I needed to have longer arms to see things.

A little voice inside me says, ‘You should go and get new glasses.’ The practical part of me, who notices I have not been earning a wage, tells me to buy yet another pair of cheap reading glasses.

Yet another part of me says, ‘Well, you should be earning a wage, so you can buy yourself new glasses.’

These parts of myself try not to be negative, yet because they are practical they list all the reasons why these things are not achievable. So, I decide that when there is more light in the sky, I will try to find the glasses I know I own, and use those.

But, I want to do something now, so I studiously try to ignore these things and try not to fuss too much about not wearing my glasses, and instead rely on the fact I have a fairly good idea where the keys on the keyboard are. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time I have had to write blind.

‘May we sing to you, for you.’ the small voices ask, and it makes me sad for no reason at all. One of the young men of the house has gotten out of bed and is having a shower. He works early this morning, has taken on extra responsibilities for himself, and is learning how to shine.

It is beautiful to see.

Dawn is here.

You see, someone achieving something is possibly one of the most wonderful things in the world to me. To see them rise and say, ‘This is what I am going to do,’ is possibly one of the sweetest things to feel.

Is this my purpose? I feel it is.

Perhaps, someday someone will also do that for me.

Today, though, like most days, I will see them rise, and I will do my best to help them shine, and listen when I can, and switch off when I can’t. This is how I deal with things. I will do the things they are unable/unwilling to do, and make sure everything runs smoothly.

I put myself in their shoes and I think, ‘Oh, I should be there, sitting with them, and just being there for them. They yawn loudly, and I think, ‘Please do that quietly, other people are sleeping’, and then I think, ‘If I was sitting with them, perhaps they would not yawn as loudly.’ I hear the morning birds and I think, ‘I should be there, appreciating their songs,’ and then I compare that to sitting and appreciating being with the person who supports me because I chose to walk away from something that was not kind.

I have been told that was a poor decision, to walk away from something that was not kind, because now I do not earn that wage. Yet here, where I am doing my best to be kind, it is accepted and ignored as well.

Do I get to share my passion for words with them? No, not often. This is boring to them

Do they get to share their passion for the sport of their choosing with me? Often, and loudly. Do I wish to participate in that sport? No. They like to get louder and louder to share their passion with me. I get quieter and quieter because my words and their words do not compare.

So, instead, we use the practical knowledge of how to make things work, with each other, and although my practical knowledge of certain things far exceeds theirs in some ways, their practical knowledge of other things far exceeds mine in others. This is how the partnership is formed. I will continue to be proud of them, and the things I love to do will continue to be mine and mine alone — for if I disagree with something then I am called, very loudly by people with loud voices, these people I love, horrible names. If I say, ‘If you do this to help yourself, you can be more independent.’ They say, ‘If you do this for me, I don’t need to.’

So, this is where it’s at. I cannot go and earn a wage for myself, because it infringes on the time for them. Yet, if I do not work and earn a wage, it is a bad decision and I should have stayed.

Where do I come into this?

I should get myself a dog.

I can’t get myself a dog, because this is not the right environment for a dog. The dog would be mistreated, the dog might escape, the dog would not be trained properly for there are many people in my home, and a dog needs to be trained one way, not many ways, so the dog can learn one thing first before he can learn many.

I go back to my words. I have learnt from the past that to get something to play with, in whatever shape or form, will only serve to have it and myself mistreated, and have myself blamed — so I go back to my words.

My own words are the only words that are safe for me.

Why?

No one on this page at this time has interfered with my own words. Only I have interfered with my own words. I allow changes if they are correct. If I no longer have access to make the correct changes, then I no longer have access to the one thing I can control.

Then lose control.

That is a very unwise decision. It is illogical, impractical, and ridiculous.

Then get another hobby.

This is where they and I agree. Why, when I only have one thing I absolutely, thoroughly enjoy, the one thing I have left to enjoy because everything else is taken away, or impractical, unwise, not appreciated, not accepted, and no one has given me/will give me the opportunity or access to be myself for myself and no one else, why would I get another hobby?

Then there is only one thing left to do. Here we disagree. I will not end, nor will I give in or give up, because that is simply not who I am. I will get up, again, and again, and again. I will not be violent if I can help it. I will not try to hurt if I can help it. I will not be loud or obnoxious if I can help it. I will just get smaller, and smaller until finally there is nothing left at all.

And then I will start again.

A Dog called Moses.

When I lived in a place that was not this one, and when I thought many things were not going my way, and when I thought the light at the end of the tunnel was an oncoming train, I got myself a dog.

I found him in the newspaper. People don’t read the newspaper so much anymore, but, at certain times of the year they have beautiful messages in them, and, at certain times of the year, if you look very carefully, you’ll find something very special which is meant for you, and you alone.

This was where I found Moses. He was a mixed breed — part retriever, part sheep dog. For this reason, it took him almost a year to learn how to run.

Now, you might ask why it took him so long. You see, because he was part retriever and part very fast indeed, his body was too short, and his legs were too long. So, it took him a while to untangle his legs from under his body and learn to run properly.

He was a beautiful dog. He had long pointed ears, big brown eyes, a beautiful white chest with spots of grey, and mostly the rest of him was as black as black could be. His coat shone in the sun, and he was my companion for fourteen years.

We moved through the world together, my dog and I. When I simply could not survive in the coldness of the south anymore, we moved to a much warmer place. Me, and my dog. We lived with different people. Some we liked. Some, not so much. Me, and my dog.

Eventually, my dog and I found someone we could trust. He understood my dog was my dog, and that he really liked people anyway. He just didn’t listen to anyone else but me.

Oh, sometimes he would do things other people wanted him to do, but he was my dog, not anyone else’s, and that was his choice, and mine. So, we decided to add one more person to our dog family, and that’s when things really took off.

The man we had decided was “okay” became my husband. It took a while for that to happen, because we kind of did things backwards. You see, before he became my husband, we had, not one, but two boys. Count them.

Two.

Ha.

Ha.

Haaaaaaa.

Unfortunately, my dog was not with us when we found that out, so we had to console ourselves with cake, instead. It didn’t really help, but it made us feel better temporarily. It was not a very comfortable time for me, but my dog stayed beside me all during that.

When my children were born, it was obvious my husband would need to bring the dog to the hospital to meet the children. He was very proud. They both were, actually, but I think if that dog could have been any more gentle with these two little new humans, he would have turned into a flower. You see, Moses (my dog) had always been a bit of a hippy in my humble opinion. He just loved everyone.

So, in my head, when the dog met the babies, he was thinking, ‘Whoah, dude. Those came out of you? Wow, that is so cool. Can we keep them? I want to keep them.’ But then, you see, he had to go home and I had to stay in the hospital. Life imitates life sometimes, and that is just the way of it.

There are many stories to tell about Moses, my dog, but the most important… well, there are lots of important parts of his life I need to tell. The very most important-est, important part though, is that he helped my kids grow up for a very long time, and when he was gone he was missed very, very much.

That’s not the end of the story, of course. It never really is.

…to be continued.

Looking over Coalseam, Western Australia, 1997.