You would think “cold” and I would get along well since the winters of my childhood were in the snow at houses with one heated room. The rest of the house would be freezing cold especially at night and in the mornings. Oh, I owe the world to my mother to get up in the mornings and get the fire going for us. Every morning for months. When we moved into our house here in Melbourne nine years ago, it was September I think, and I panicked to get a central heating as the weather was still cold. Waking up into a warm house in cold mornings soothes my body but hurts my soul. My mother’s morning fires were not only to warm us up but for toasting our bread and earlier on even to make our tea. The two most delicious things on earth until today.
I had some really quality time with my mother on our recent trip to Turkey. It was most comforting and one of the highlights of my trip. We walked in n out of shops together, pointed at what we liked. I’m usually an impatient listener with her but this time I did well. I let her talk without breaking her flow. We walked on the shores of Mediterranean together, arm in arm, hand in hand. She had tea and I had a cold beer. I let the sun go down behind me and watched its warm tint wash over her face, her red dyed hair and shine her little eyes. I froze the time on her face.