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It's the small things...
A hot cup of tea in bed every morning at 6, brought to me by a husband who bemoans his inability to sleep past 5am but makes good use of that pre-dawn time (to my way of thinking anyway)
The view from my study window: showers of golden leaves when it's windy, watching the satiny plumage of a male bower bird foraging in the tea tree, tiny elegant honeyeaters amongst the lipstick salvia.
A full pantry and time to make healthy, delicious meals.
Knowing that my loved ones have so far weathered the viral storm.
Taking chocolates to my 91 year old Mum in her nursing home (now I'm allowed to actually visit instead of talking through an open window), reading her one of the short stories I've written in isolation mode.
The technology that allows me to see and hear my family, including two grandkids who I'm missing, and friends.
Balancing all of these is the knowledge that so many others, all around the world, do not have these small, huge gifts.
I am grateful that I do.
A hot cup of tea in bed every morning at 6, brought to me by a husband who bemoans his inability to sleep past 5am but makes good use of that pre-dawn time (to my way of thinking anyway)
The view from my study window: showers of golden leaves when it's windy, watching the satiny plumage of a male bower bird foraging in the tea tree, tiny elegant honeyeaters amongst the lipstick salvia.
A full pantry and time to make healthy, delicious meals.
Knowing that my loved ones have so far weathered the viral storm.
Taking chocolates to my 91 year old Mum in her nursing home (now I'm allowed to actually visit instead of talking through an open window), reading her one of the short stories I've written in isolation mode.
The technology that allows me to see and hear my family, including two grandkids who I'm missing, and friends.
Balancing all of these is the knowledge that so many others, all around the world, do not have these small, huge gifts.
I am grateful that I do.