We have had our perfect month of summer. One filled with long, warm days at the beach and early evening swims riding the waves as the sun sinks over the hill and bedtime comes and goes while we play in the surf. Pink skies above the karri trees as we sprawl in bed and read Enid Blyton to the creak of the frogs in the garden. Afternoons paddling in the river and picnicking with friends on its banks.
January has more than made up for the ills of December. I have felt wrapped in a warm and fuzzy blanket of sunshine and salt water and community. Both from friends who are near enough to stop and offer a hug and an open ear as I process the events of Christmas, and those who have reached out from afar.
Old friends who made me stop and realise how lucky I am to have four healthy children, and to have stepped in and out of the hospital system so quickly (while we are not quite out of the woods, there are only a few more appointments left to keep). Beautiful, green thumbed friends putting a passionfruit and a tamarillo into my hands at their shop counter and insisting they be accepted as a gift.
Blogging friends tucking unexpected parcels of goodness into the post for me to unwrap on the other side of the country and a little revolutionary dancing around the garden in delight after uncovering a special something just for her.
Presents from fairy godmothers and the lovely Annie, who helped replace Thea's doll and dress her in the right clothes. Thea's special Waldorf doll, Cinammon, which we gave her for her first birthday, went missing from her cot in hospital on Christmas Day. We'll never know where she went, but I hope she is giving another child a little bit of love now. Thea now sleeps squished between her two newest companions. All is well with her world.
Thank you, dear friends.