Small steps

I remember after my breakdown, how I kept reminding myself that as time passed the hurt would not be there.After I gave birth, how my caesar scar would heal and that I had to move so slowly. Crawling on the floor attending to my pelvic floor, I went really slowly. When I tripped over my laces…Read more »

The terry – towelling nappy

Saturday is the pivot to the new week.   I take to the domestic chores at hand. Shopping, cleaning, watering plants and endless laundry. The washing machine a constant whirl, fills the house with sound, movement and life washing away the week bringing freshness to the next cycle- to start again. That hum of the machine…Read more »

The fork in the spaghetti

Suddenly it all came together to this point- known as a fork in the road- or in Italian terms, the fork in the spaghetti, twisted tightly around the pasta! How to get out of this one? Once you unwind, then what? One might say- Eat the pasta and move on. I’ve been here on three occasions. …Read more »

If negative emotions were utensils

Anger The knife slices strips of flesh from the carcass   We prepare, mince and marinate  Winter salamis, prosciutto, capacolo Imagine how anger stabs at you Sorrow for the sacrificed maele. Sadness Deep ladle scoops and holds  Tears of liquid, laps the sides and slurps Its messy business sucking it up like soup Gets all over…Read more »

The Cinnamon Cake

I am in year 10 at St Joseph’s College Mildura. I catch the bus to Deakin Ave every morning where I alight at 8am and it’s a ten-minute walk to the school gate, which is behind the Mildura Catholic Church.  It’s where I did my holy communion, confirmation and confessed my sins to the priest…Read more »

Writing about writing

What is my writing voice? Writing is a way to find answers. Feeling the pen, the scribble, keeps the chatter moving, opening the mind to the senses. Stops time and enables observation in words, documents experience which leads to understanding. I started writing like most people, at school. My HSC English teacher was Sister Nancy,…Read more »

Good bye to the City of Whittlesea

Dedicated to the Memory of Pina Guerra who set me on the path of formalising my Community Development credentials that connected me to Helen Rodd, that connected me to a new career pathway I also acknowledge the memory of David Turnbull- the CEO who had it under control. I acknowledge the Aboriginal people whose connection…Read more »

Listen to Land

Imagine a summer’s afternoon on the hills of a grassy Calabrian Landscape, watching the village below, surrounded by clanging of bells hanging from bleating goat’s beard. Lull to trance, gentle breeze massages the temple that frames squinting eyes- flickering in the afternoon’s soothing sun- suspended like time has stagnated, curdled, solidified- nothing to do but…Read more »