Six weeks has gone and this blog post has been a vacant space with tumble weeds passing through its virtual pages. To be completely honest, I haven’t posted of late because I’ve been feeling beige, some may describe it as ‘meh.’ As if I’ve been walking through a thick fog and have no idea when it will lift. What has brought me back to this space where I only seem comfortable to share happy moments is that the fog has lifted.
I’m not comfortable writing about the darker shades of life as I feel so incredibly blessed that I have what I have. And to lament on feelings of sadness feels a little trivial in the big scheme of things. In saying that, I don’t want to speak of a life that is full of sunshine and lollipops as that’s not authentic either. I’m sure I’ll find a balance as to what to share.
As some of you may know, apart from owning globetrotting, I also own a lifestyle magazine on the Sunshine Coast called Salt Magazine, in partnership with my father. And when deadline knocks on the door my main focus is on producing the best possible edition. Each edition I struggle to write a thought-provoking editor’s note. With the current autumn edition, I felt overwhelmed with the love that lifted from its pages, so I wrote about it. I wanted to share an extract of it:
Is there any greater journey than love? I think not.
For the past couple of editions I’ve been honoured to document the love journeys of three Sunshine Coast couples who have been married for more than half a century. They were revealed in our Lovestruck section ‘for better or for worse’.
First, there was Bill and Glad Forward. Married for 50 years, they travelled the world working as missionaries. Then came Lurline and Ossie Apps, who have been married for 69 years and still potter around their Maroochy River property, throwing in a crab pot and growing rosy, red tomatoes. Now we have Betty and Oswald Dent (pictured above) who have been together for more than 70 years and still hold hands as if they were love-struck teenagers.
Betty stole a kiss from Os when I was setting up my tripod to photograph them. It made my heart melt and my skin tingle. The gentleness and kindness shared between them took my breath away. I loved seeing the sepia-toned photo of the bride and groom on their wedding day as much as the portrait photo I captured seven decades on. They are still side-by-side with sparkling eyes although a lifetime has passed.
I could drink cups of milky tea in the living rooms of these 80 and 90-year-old great grandparents for hours and listen to their life stories. I listen and nod and ask questions, hoping that a golden nugget of wisdom will fall from their lips, such as the key to a long and happy marriage, how to raise well-mannered children, how to fold a fitted sheet or make scones that don’t resemble pikelets.
I’ve lived long enough to understand there are so many shades of love. The love for my husband has been a constant, warm glow of love ever since we met 13 years ago. Simply put, he feels like home. Recently, this love has reached stratospheric proportions when I see him as a father to our child. My love for my daughter was a volcanic explosion of love when she arrived two years ago. For me, maternal love is a powerful, scary love where I would risk life and limb to protect her.
Tell me: are you part of a epic love story? Can you fold a fitted sheet?