Telling Tales (true or tall)

FAMILY JIGSAW I think of family as a living jigsaw in a great, big box. Everything in order, sitting pretty and much valued. Separately, depending on others, like building blocks And, with each fragment, the whole of us continued.   Although bits were rearranged, it still looked like Us. Friends and colleagues might cause some movement But the picture gradually returned to our ordinariness. Life continued despite what changes might represent.   Until the vessel broke and pieces scattered everywhere. Frantic scrabbling and searching failed to find them all. I’m searching for an important piece, lost somewhere, So the completed picture can again be the Us I recall.   © Sandy Gillis July 2023  Published Dec 2024 Hinterland Times  

LEOTARD LUNACY They were excited as they gave me the card, “Choosing presents for you Mum, is always hard. But Dad says you’ll love this. It’s really great!” Now I was getting excited, I couldn’t wait. But I teased us a little by feeling the outside And wondering out loud what could be inside. “Money to buy something, just for me? Tickets to that show I’ve been dying to see? A voucher for gliding lessons I wanted to do?” “Better than that Darl, and it’s all for you.” So I opened it quickly, loving smile for him. Oh… Just what I wanted, 12 months at the gym. So here I sit, struggling on the Pec Deck Trying to ignore shooting pains in my neck. I move to the leg press, squatting down low, As usual, unsure where my feet are to go. Next is the shoulder press, most hated of all. With clenched jaw I curse, “Oh, yeah, having a ball.” No matter how often I force myself to go, My aging flesh will never, ever look (I know) Like that of tho...

Farewell Mum We celebrate now in love, Mum's life from start to end And we're glad we knew her, as Mum and as a Friend. We remember all the love and lessons she taught us And thank her for the care and generosity shown us. Although Mum's now left this earth and taken flight, We know she's that voice in our heads, our guiding light. Remembering her will be easy, we do that anyway; Because there's an ache in our hearts that won't go away. But we're pretty sure that up there in Heaven She'll be painting and teaching pottery once again... S, P & R (26.9.17)

Photo courtesy Nest In The Attic My eyes are wet with tears as I stand over her frail body. Her face is peaceful and free of the pain that has been so noticeable of late.  I feel my throat constricting with the effort of keeping my emotions in check.  Is this tiny, thin creature the same woman I remember from childhood as a tower of strength? Mum had phoned me earlier this morning and asked me to stop in on my way to the city to check on her mother, my "Grammy".  I had grudgingly agreed because she was insistent although it would mean I’d be late for my hair appointment.  It was terribly difficult to get a suitable spot at  Ramon’s. “Honestly Mum, you worry too much,” I had said.  “She’s as tough as old leather and will probably outlast me!” I look through the door to the kitchen where long ago Grandma had taught me to cook the dishes my own family now loved.  So strong are the many happy memories of that room, I feel I can almost touch th...

  My husband was very proud of his Christmas gift to me but I'm afraid I was not very happy about having a kitten in the house, pedigreed blue Burmese or not.  I had a new baby and a toddler so this cute ball of grey fluff seemed like too much hard work.  It occurred to me that she was going to be more trouble than the baby.  She had to be fed four times a day at first and came complete with suggested menu for those meals.  We named her Misty but that gradually became Bee because our toddler, Kara, couldn't pronounce "Misty". She was as cute as a button and wonderful but there were times we could have cheerfully strangled her. However, she turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to our family because if not for her, we might all be dead!  The children were three and four when one winter night she woke me, making a hell of a racket at our closed bedroom door.  She was scratching at the door, yowling and leaping up at the door handle...

I am under siege! Every day I come under a constant barrage of complaints from my 13 year old daughter: "It's not fair. All my friends are doing/wearing/having/getting  it ." Last year “it” was getting a signet ring (heart-shaped, preferably with a red stone,  not  silver).  I daresay next year “it” will be something equally as earth-shattering to a girl of her age. At the moment, “it” refers to the wearing of make-up.  I might add that after watching her friends closely, I have found no evidence to support her claim that they’re  all  doing anything, except gang up on me.  One signet ring does not a sorority make. I intend to go down fighting, though.  I vow I will not succumb to the endless sniping.  It may be paltry ammunition but the tried and true “when I was your age...." will hold her off for a while and then I can trot out my favourite, “I’ll think about it”.  Recycling is the key to resistance. It has...

My favourite, summer holiday-spot in Queensland has been Caloundra on the Sunshine Coast, for as long as I can remember.  More particularly, Golden Beach, where my grandparents owned a beach shack.           Every Christmas we would pack up, along with various aunts, uncles and cousins, not forgetting of course grandad and grandma, meet up with more aunts, uncles and cousins and proceed to have a whale of a time.  At least, we kids had a whale of a time.  Apparently, that’s not quite how the adults remember it. Sometimes we’d go at Easter time but Christmas and those hot summers, complete with Christmas beetles and the buzz of cicadas, are the memories I recall most fondly.           It seems it was only we children who thoroughly enjoyed sleeping on the floor or camping downstairs; trooping off for another glorious day at the beach; counting the hours till Santa (or the Easter Bunny) deliv...

The article announced that Diana, an amazing US psychic, was to focus on Queensland at noon that Sunday.  If we readers were also to concentrate at noon, holding a spoon or fork, whilst staring into the eyes of the accompanying photograph of the psychic, we could discover our own powers. I devoured the story, soaking up the instructions and realised I would need to clear the house of all negative vibes. This meant my husband, The Great Sceptic, must be persuaded to go out with the children. I knew I would not be able to concentrate if I could feel his cynicism close at hand.  I cunningly discussed the idea of seeing a movie within earshot of the youngest and, true to form, after considerable nagging on her part, he caved and had the brilliant idea of taking the girls to the movies. By 11.45am I was sure I had everything ready.  I went over the instructions again, so I would be sure not to omit any important step.  As well as a sturdy, unbent spoon, on a ...