Friday 16 Sept 2016

                                                                                                                                    

You know what people like me always seem to have too little of (besides chocolate)? Time! But right now, I have three glorious hours to myself, and all I’m going to do is write. Yay!!!

I’m on a day’s leave, which I’ve basically dedicated to ‘Mom Duty’, for my younger child.

I’m sitting in my car outside her school. It’s a big day for her and her peers. Firstly, it’s the final day of September mock exams, which brings them to just about four or five weeks until their study break before their final matric exams! But today is a Big Day for another reason – tonight is their Matric Dance, a rite of passage they spend many years looking forward to. Not without controversy, it’s nevertheless a huge event in the lives of those who do attend.

Three years ago, my son decided against going to his matric dance. Despite all his teachers and friends’ attempts at convincing him otherwise, he spent the night alone in his room, organising his paperwork, filing stories he’d written, and excitedly planning his future. It was the way he chose to mark the end of his high school years. That was what made him happiest, and that’s what he did. A sworn socialist, he also hated the thought of all that money being spent on an event of that nature. I have a very simple approach to my children’s decisions – if your decision is different to the ‘norm’, is not hurting anybody, and is an expression of your individuality, so be it. I may have determined 50% of your genetic make-up, and I may have guided you through your formative years, but who you develop into, as a young adult, has to be as unencumbered a process as possible. From what I’ve experienced, when you reach the end of high school, your essential personality and life direction are pretty much established. Life may add years of experience, some layers of complexity, and an appreciation of nuance, but you remain basically that same person.

What I do remember distinctly, though, is my daughter, four years his junior, stating unequivocally that she was definitely going to her matric dance.

So, here I am – doing one of the things I love most: writing. I’m sitting in my car, under a huge tree, with the rain pelting down. The sound of the rain on the car’s roof is loud and tinny, but it’s surprisingly comforting, making me feel cocooned from the rest of the world. I’m in my own world, a wonderful world of uninterrupted typing of thoughts as they tumble into my consciousness. Wonderful. Bliss. I fully understand why my son schedules his life around his writing. I know how compelling it is. He writes fiction, and he’s brilliant at it. Not my forte.  I have a style that’s more like journaling. In my dream home, one day, I’ll have a special writing space.

So why am I sitting here for three whole hours, when I could have driven home and enjoyed  hot cups of tea and some toast? The same old story – I’m basically saving petrol. This is me making lemonade from yet another batch of lemons. About three months ago, something happened – a decision by someone who’s had a destructive effect on my life for many years – which threw my finances into absolute chaos. Even though forthcoming events will ensure that this phase of scarcity is temporary, I am still reeling from this latest round of having the rug pulled out from under my feet. But one thing I’ve become very good at is choreographing steps that keep me on my feet, regardless of how that rug is pulled. I have learnt the art of survival. (“Keep dancing” is one of my 2016 goals.) For me, it’s a combination of using my skills and talents to earn extra money (as in, live music performances) and asking for help. 

I’ve also learnt that there are so many things that one can’t control. If you lend money to someone, and they promise to pay it back by a certain date, you simply cannot depend on that. And most of the time when that happens, people don’t tell you beforehand, so you wait until the day it was promised, and sometimes even a few days later, before you actually broach the subject.  By then, your other commitments are clamouring for attention, and your personal track record has been compromised.  

How does all of this relate to my daughter’s matric dance? Well, these things cost money. We had ‘Plan A’ perfectly worked out, but that was before the aforementioned rug incident. An additional setback, from said recidivist, added pressure I could have done without, at this important time in my daughter’s life. I am being as unspecific as I can, but the details explain why I am sitting in my car, right now, saving petrol. This whole thing is depressingly familiar  – it haunts me like a theme to a horror movie….. you hear the strains and wonder what the hell is coming next, how your life could possibly be made more difficult, this time. What has not already been done, to keep you from moving forward?  

But I am a survivor. And nothing is more important to me than my children. I would do anything for them. I would sacrifice any personal comfort for their happiness.  This is something I know how to do. And I’ve become good at it. Even while I’m going through the difficulty, I’m excited about the future. I plan to live long, so my time to spoil myself will come. :-) The truth is that life always sends me sunny days, even in winter. It’s never all gloom and doom. I have enough happiness and magic up my sleeve to sustain me. It’s like my secret pamper pack – my private little stash of feel-good supplies.

Besides the tickets, all other matric dance expenses are around the outfit. My daughter has known for years what she wanted to wear. She found a young designer, who came highly recommended. Her rates were reasonable, and she lived close by. At our first visit already, I could see she was perfect. She listened well, had a calm, no-nonsense way of doing things, and the dresses in her workroom and the pictures of her work, displayed on her website and in her workroom, said it all. We’ve basically seen her three times – once when we met her and she took the measurements, once for a fitting and some minor adjustments, and once for fetching the dress. I love it!  She’s a great seamstress, and her admin is on point! (Can’t undo the Virgo, sorry!)

Then there were the shoes, which my daughter sourced cheaply, a la ‘Plan B’, some make-up and some jewelry, including a headpiece for her flaming mane. What can I say? She’s my angel, and she’s going to look like a forest princess. My heart swells with pride.  Her cousin is doing her hair, which is a real blessing to us.

So, once again, despite all the challenges, we will achieve the goal at hand, and all will be well, just like we kept reassuring each other it would. Life has not been easy, for many years, but I have an irrepressible spirit. I’m like a cork in water – it’s just not possible for me to stay down. I believe that every hardship I encounter is temporary. Approaching life that way tips the scales towards success.

I also have a host of angels in my life, people who believe in me, and who are ‘the wind beneath my wings’, people who have helped me through the dark patches, with their love, their words, their energy, and sometimes their material assistance. Because of my loving network and my unsquashable optimism, I will always succeed. I will always rise, after falling. I will always find my smile. I will always sing another song. And I will always have a word of hope for someone else who might be navigating her way through the darkness, because I’m familiar with that neck of the woods.

I’m just lucky to have found a few paths that lead back to the light.

Peace

                               Taken one beautiful morning, as we were leaving home.