15 Marbles

Moments.Musings.Memories. ❤️Gathering little marbles from ordinary days and keeping them for our memory jar. ❤️

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  • A golden called Jordan

    A little floofball appeared out of nowhere and had me obsessed.

    I shared his photo with the family. They slowly warmed up to the idea of another puppy… not much different from our first. ❤️

    From the first day I laid eyes on his photo, it was his eyes that got my attention. And I was lost in those beautiful brown eyes!

    He had been found running astray.

    My first thought was, Oh, that baby!

    Then, Someone must be missing him.

    And then, with each passing day, the questions started…

    Why is he still there?
    Why isn’t his person coming?
    Is he scared?
    What must be going on in his mind?

    I kept watching and registered my interest.

    And then we waited.

    Over those weeks, my heart broke for him so many times. But somewhere along the way, without even knowing whether he would actually come to us, we were already falling in love with him.

    We had multiple family meetings about names, who his person would be and everything in between.

    Meanwhile, Sir Nameless had absolutely no clue that four people were arguing over his name and planning a future around him! 😃

    And then, after weeks of waiting, I got the call.

    He was ours. ❤️

    Incoming: a spanner in the works.

    He had to be picked up the next day.

    The next day that I WASN’T GOING TO BE IN TOWN!!

    In fact, I was going to be away for the whole week — and they couldn’t hold him for us.

    In true Trish style, I took it in my stride and thanked my stars and blessings – at least the call had come while I was still in town!

    Cue the back-and-forth texts with the family, hurried trips to the shops with the girls and suddenly… his little corner was set up. ❤️

    This was actually happening.

    And somewhere amongst all that chaos, all those questions I had been asking for weeks suddenly didn’t seem quite so loud.

    Why was he still there?
    Why wasn’t his person coming?

    Maybe I finally knew why.

    He was just making his way to me… to us. ❤️

    And now he’s home.

    I’m away for the week, but this time, I’m the one counting down the days.

    I can’t wait to get home and cuddle him.🐾

  • Four months since the big surgery!

    If someone had told me earlier this year that I would feel better, be pain-free, leave those hard months behind and that ‘that time of the month’ would become a faint memory, I would have laughed in their face, shaken my head sadly and walked away.

    Yesterday, I walked for 30 minutes. I’ve been walking consistently for about a week or so now. I still slow down around the 20-minute mark, but I’m covering longer distances each day.

    And this is where I put up the 🧿 and ask for good vibes only. 💜😃

    Having a hysterectomy was the best thing I did for myself.

    Feel free to skip through the TMI part – no, really! 😃

    My uterus was so enlarged that it was squishing everything else in its vicinity. There’s been good and bad with my body adjusting afterwards – my stomach seems happier with less food, so there’s some automatic portion control happening. 😃 My bladder is certainly happy not to be constantly pushed on!

    My sleep has improved, my hair fall has reduced and my skin feels hydrated again.

    I reckon some of those changes could be because my iron reserves have improved. Blood tests are pending, so I don’t know that for sure yet – but I’m noticing the changes.

    Or maybe it’s simply that my body is happier now.

    I am happier in my skin.

    And I think that’s because I was truly ready to embrace this change.

    My uterus had served me well. It grew two beautiful babies and carried me through the years after. But it was time to say goodbye to it – with love, and not with grief.

    Maybe that’s why my body feels happier.

    It’s healing.

    I am healing.

    💞

  • Grief Has Many Faces

    [Trigger warning: Grief]

    Grief has many faces – or should I say facets?

    It’s not only the tears…

    It shows up in ways you never imagined.

    It presents itself like a rock in your throat that pops up randomly as you go about your day.

    It shows up when you are smiling but don’t feel it in your eyes.

    It’s there when someone asks you how you are doing and you automatically respond, “I am good,” and keep going.

    It turns up when you are out walking and see someone who looks like your person or is dressed like them.

    It’s the tears that prickle your eyes when you hear a familiar word or phrase.

    It hits you harder on certain days when the world is celebrating… on others, you feel the gut punch as you are performing a mundane task.

    Grief also splits you in two – Me before the loss & Me after the loss.

    Sometimes it looks like unfinished projects…

    My unfinished project had nothing to do with my dad – but I managed to source it just before my dad passed, and it sits unopened by my front door because the me ‘after my dad’ just can’t deal with it.

    This me also can’t bring herself to let it go… not just yet.

    But here’s the thing…

    Grief has no timeline and no definite face.

    Two people can grieve the same person differently, be suffering the same, and yet appear completely different.

    If you are blessed with parents who loved you and were your anchors, losing them displaces you – your whole world feels off-centre, and it’s okay to be lost.

    Some days, one loss just feels louder than the other. Missing my dad more loudly doesn’t mean I grieve my mum any less. It doesn’t mean she was any less important. We just got more time with him – more years, more memories and more of his love.

    Grief just seems to know which part of your heart to tug at on any given day… and how hard.

    Although, I wonder – and I may be wrong – whether losing a parent shakes your world in some way, regardless of the relationship you had with them…

    You look for signs, anything that comforts you, shows you that they are still around.

    Those same signs make you smile and they make you cry.

    It’s also okay to continue living even when a whole big part of you is missing. Even when you wonder why the world hasn’t stopped.

    I carry on with life, showing up as best as I can because I know my dad worked hard for me to be happy. Worked hard physically and emotionally – as my dad, while trying to fill in for my mum too.

    So, I try.

    I try every day.

    I push through, moving forward while still holding onto the thin string that keeps me connected to the old me – the me before my dad… the one whose smiles warmed the cockles of her heart and reached her eyes too.

    And then on other days, I just lay down in bed and cry my heart out because that is all I can do… the only thing that I can control in this whole world that continues to exist without him.

    If you are grieving a loved one and it all seems too much, or you feel like you need to put on a brave face to show up each day… I see you.

    If you are in a place where you have made your peace with your grief, I see you too.

    And if you are in between, then, I see you too…

    💞

  • I Blame My Friend for the French Martini

    I am not a big drinker, but I don’t mind a good cocktail every once in a while. My usual go-to drink is a Margarita.

    But this one is about Martinis – the French ones in particular.

    Every time I see Martinis on a menu, my brain automatically hears it in a James Bond voice:

    A Martini – shaken, not stirred.

    And I am no James Bond, so I usually look away. 😂

    But recently, I caught up with an old friend, L, for dinner. She asked if I had ever tried a French Martini.

    I said no.

    She insisted I try one.

    So, somewhat hesitantly despite her encouragement, I ordered one.

    Now, let me tell you a little about my friend L.

    I have known her for more than 15 years. We met at kindergarten pick-up when her twins and Miss A attended together. She also had a toddler then, and I was pregnant with Miss An.

    She had her hands full but ALWAYS had a smile and a kind word to offer.

    The girls were in the same classes across various years of primary school, and we slowly became more than acquaintances.

    There is something about knowing people who have watched your kids grow up. People who have watched you stumble and find your way through different phases of motherhood, while finding your footing in a new place – a new country for me, a new city for her.

    Over the years, the girls have grown apart, but we have grown closer – navigating our own lives while raising smart, strong-headed daughters.

    Anyway, back to that night.

    Cocktails were ordered, and I absolutely loved my French Martini.

    The perfect combination of sweet and sour, with a hint of fruit. I thought guava. L told me it was raspberry. 😲 Very nice regardless.

    And just the right amount of alcohol to reach that happy feeling.

    I realised belatedly that it was my first drink since surgery.

    Of course that was a milestone!

    Before we knew it, hours had passed, drinks were drained, many stories and confidences shared, and we had to call it a night.

    But not before L promised to host a French Martini afternoon tea.

    Typically, like all mums would know, we checked our schedules and realised the next free weekend for both of us was a couple of months away.

    At least it wasn’t a couple of years. 😃

    So now I wait dreamily for that afternoon, a few months from now.

    An afternoon soirée in our loungewear, sipping cocktails or tea and continuing our conversations from the other night.