Do you ever think about the value of a day?
Just one ordinary day.
How much weight does it hold?
How much purpose, direction or potential? How much change can happen, in just one day?
I was looking through my photo album on my phone for something; can’t even remember what, and I was scrolling through all these photos, of all these different things.
Photos of Ava finally receiving her doll from Daisy Roo and Two. (Her initial one, a Christmas present, got lost in the mail, or stolen by a neighbour; not sure really. 🙁 )
Photos of Adelaide from the weekend before last.
Photos of the kids sports day their first week at their new school.
Photos of a sore ankle.
Photos of the middle of Australia, a journey that only happened three weeks ago.
Photos of the kids last days at their last school.
Photos of Boatman coming home.
Photos, so many photos taken whilst he was away.
Photos of the day before he left, and we all went out to lunch, wishing it was already three weeks later.
Photos of the Christmas holidays and a random trip to the museum. Photos of a time when it was all just as it was. Our very normal, very ordinary, very well-known life, symbolised in some very ordinary, boring type pictures.
It’s only been just over two months. That’s all. So much has happened this year, and it’s happened fast. There’s barely been time to think about it. Until I looked through that camera roll, at all those days, with all their moments, and I began to understand all that has unfolded since the new year ticked over, and I was overwhelmed with the magnitude of it all.
Now don’t get me wrong; I’m happy with our new life, and I love the adventure, and the change and the sense of direction that I didn’t have before, but at the moment I can’t help but think about the Museum and that day that we went. And how the kids were so enthralled with the Cyclone Tracey exhibition, and we spoke so much about it, because it was a huge part of our town’s history.
That day, just an ordinary day when life was just how it was. We had had hash browns and soft serve for morning tea (too early for fries), and we bumped into a friend and her new born baby there. The kids all measured their height in the discovery area, and afterwards we walked around the museum gardens, staring out to sea at the huge ships, and Ava complained because it was oh so hot. And it really was.
How can it be that was only just over two months ago, when it feels like a lifetime?
How can it be that we have done so much, and changed so much, in just the most ridiculous amount of time?
How can it be that it is only now, that I have stopped to realise the magnitude of it? How it’s only now occasionally getting on top of me; the busy-ness, the newness, the fact that I still don’t have a couch that I can curl up and relax on? (I think the couch drama is some kind of nesting thing.)
I keep thinking about that day at the museum, and wondering what I would have done differently, if I had known then, what I know now. If I had understood that that day, in all of it’s glorious normalness, would be such a defining moment. Made so only because of some random photos on a camera roll, and the fact that none of us ever expected anything more from it, than just a morning out of the house. And then I wonder, how many other seemingly insignificant moments, will actually turn out to hold great significance ? How many other decisions, gambles, or random fleeting thoughts will change the directions of our lives?
How many perfectly ordinary seconds of time, will actually change who we are?
It’s been just over 9 weeks since the first phone call from Bing Bong. Just over 6 since the decision to move south, and just over three weeks since we got here. I’m tired, and at times quite lonely. I’ve found it hard to work out what I’m feeling, and impossible to write. I feel like I’m finally catching up on the hugeness of it all, and at times I’m more than slightly overwhelmed. Some times it feels like I’ve crashed.
But I haven’t, and I don’t think I will. I’m not homesick. I don’t regret the decision at all. This here, is exactly where we are supposed to be, of that I have no doubt. There is no desire to go back, but only forward. To create a new life, with new memories, and new seemingly insignificant moments that may, or may not prove to be so.
Days to be lived.
Days to be recorded.
Days to be cherished.
Days to change who we are, just as they always have.
Beautiful, ordinary, extraordinary days.