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4.30pm. Sitting in my front courtyard garden. The sun is over the yardarm, or very nearly. Cool air is battling with the descending sun and is definitely winning. My precious children, a.k.a. the plants in the garden, are glancing tentatively about. We made it, they’re saying. Yesterday’s storms and another hot day today and he hasn’t killed us yet. Did someone whisper in his ear not to water us? Good! There’s water aplenty in the soil still. Time to stretch out, unfurl stems and leaves, relax, and bask in the late afternoon glory where shadows creep in and the rays of the retreating sun jump across fencetops on their way west.

Quiet, reflective time. Good time. My plants and I are somehow in harmony.

Two things today are top-of-mind.

One came from facebook. It was a shared post and it stopped me short. Only now, in the garden, am I in the mind to respond. It went something like this:
“Love your Mother . . .
Because you will never get another”.
(Apologies if I didn’t reproduce that exactly).

It stopped me short because although I do love my mother, it is at times a gritted teeth kind of love. Lots of history there. Not the sort I need to go into here. Suffice to say visits are sometimes a duty rather than a pleasure. Sad, but true. The dutiful son does what he thinks he should do, but often with a whiff of resentment and the biting of tongues. Reading that facebook post I wish it were otherwise. Guilt and sadness in equal measure. Why can’t her son just suck it up and treat her with grace. Surely it can’t be too hard? I guess you can see where the guilt resides, hey? Something for me to work on and talk to (or is that listen to) God about.

The other noteworthy event was when a neighbour (well, a neighbour of sorts) walked past and greeted me. I have seen him before and passed him in the street as we both go on our afternoon walks around the district. He’s about my age and walks a dog. It seemed to me this afternoon he could be a lonely man.
I am habitually a bit slow to be outgoing and welcoming so all I managed was the usual ‘hello’ before he moved on down the street. It occured to me that I cold have offered him a little friendship.

You might be thinking that my days are sometimes not all that full of stuff I need to worry about, and you might be right.

Two things that pulled me up short.
Two things that ask for some effort and thought on my part.

Wish me luck.

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