An Ikea Experience

Fourteen of us flat-packed into a lift

barely enough room for us all, more claustrophobic than cosy

all silently watching the floor numbers counting upwards

as if the only way to ensure we reach the correct destination is to monitor that meter mutely

and just like the delivery of a new dining suite we all disembark at the same floor

leaving the lift lacking and empty

except for a child’s shoe.

(There’s always some small part left over after assembly.)

Mark Chimes

A new wind blowing

There was this Greek guy called Aesop who became famous for a whole lot of pithy sayings, one of which was, "The little grapes are the sweetest". 

Life is made up of big things and little things. I don't know about you but my life has probably been 20% big things and 80% little. If we live by just the big things, then there is a whole lot of life we miss out on. And upon reflection, oft times, the joy in the small things is just as good as in the big events.

I've just moved to Kleinton. It's not really Toowoomba, but it's so close, and I've lived in Toowoomba for so long, I'm still going to be calling myself a Toowoomba boy.

One of the little things I discovered about Kleinton is that there is almost always a breeze blowing. This is not a startling revelation. It's not worthy of a comment on the evening news. It's not even something I would normally mention in conversation, let alone in a blog post. 

Maybe it's because moving house this week has been one of those big events in life. The days have been filled with cleaning, packing and unpacking, moving furniture, looking for lost items, moving more furniture, finding treasured items broken, discovering things thought to have been lost in a previous move, feeling exhausted from dawn to dusk and by the time it hits mid-afternoon the day already seems to have exceeded its 24 allotted hours. It's right then that the cool breeze has been very welcome indeed.

Regardless of where you live (even if you have the misfortune of not living in Toowoomba) make sure you take notice of the small things that happen around you. They very well may be the things that get you through the big thing that is transpiring in your life right now.

The child-bride is calling. Apparently there is more furniture that needs to be moved.

Moving house

My parents have owned the same house for over 54 years. Think about that for a moment. When was the last time you moved house? How many times have you moved in your adult life? 

Two years ago, they realised that somewhere in the near future there might be a possibility that they would begin to need some assistance. Their house is a big old Queenslander and upkeep of the yard and building was starting to become too much for them both. So, we started making plans to take them in under our roof.

Now there are a number of things that are fairly obvious to anyone making these kinds of decisions. For example, my parents wanted to maintain their own living space and their own car. My mother loves to cook, and she is a quilter of some note, so it was important for her that these activities could be maintained. In other words, they wanted to retain their own independence. These were simple matters to agree upon, and while the pragmatic implementation of some of these things took a little discussion, in the main they provided no hindrance to progress. 

We started looking for suitable homes that could house two separate family units. We saw many that might have been suitable. Most would require some minor alterations, but that presented no problem to us either. As time went by, it looked like my parents were having second thoughts about moving in with us.  When I raised this with them, they assured me that they were still keen to proceed. I finally realised that this "reluctance" was not about the new house.

It was all about leaving the old.

Despite my assurances that they could, would and should remain independent as  long as they felt comfortable, leaving the house that had been the family home for over 54 years was similar to a death in the family. There was a process of leaving and separation that could not occur over just a few days or even weeks. And like the five stages of grief we all go through with the death of a close friend or family member, time needed to be given so that this process could be properly dealt with. Leaving the family home meant that a time of grieving and reconciliation was needed so this season of my parent's life could be completed properly.

We are all faced with decisions that a sometime unpalatable to us. Sometimes, the harder the decision, the longer we take to make it. I'm not just talking about procrastination. Procrastination will rarely change the decision once it is made. But sometimes we need time to allow our heart and soul to catch up with the decision the brain has already made. This is not to say that the decision was hasty, but it's our heart that grieves, not our brain. Even when the decision is a good one, and the fruit of that decision is eagerly anticipated, there can still be a need for comfort and solace over the necessary cessation of long-held habits and views.

Possessing sturdy resolve and never ones to allow a little pain to hinder necessary progress, today my parents move from the old home to the new one. Already they are involved in decisions over shrubs and gardens, tools and sheds, wall colours and curtains. And because they took the time and meditated on all the various aspects of the wonderful life the old home had hosted, and because they have concluded this season appropriately and with deliberation, they have a very good life ahead of them.

Storm brewing over Yugildah

I took this photo late Friday afternoon as storm clouds gathered overhead. Yugildah was built in 1903 and is the only remaining example of a triple gabled Queenslander in Toowoomba. I have been told that a local guided tour of the city includes a drive up Godsall street to view this masterpiece. The grandeur of the house never really impacted any one of us in the family. It was just 'home'.

My parents move from the family home this week-end, after 54 years. Fifty-four years filled with laughter and tears, joy and sadness, triumph and tragedy.  There has been much sadness over the last two years as they came to grips with the inevitability of their leaving. There's been excitement too as they looked forward to a new, more comfortable home. And this week-end they leave in triumph, knowing that in this house they successfully raised seven children and hosted many, many more. 

So many more in fact that the one thing we lacked when I grew up was enough chairs to seat everybody. It always seemed necessary for two or three to sit on the floor. In the October before Suzanne and I married, my mother averaged sixteen people for every meal that month, and we were usually light on for breakfast. Do the maths and you will understand why evening meal time at the Chimes' was an exciting, rowdy time where you needed to be involved in three or four conversations at once if you were to hold your own.

The was an occasion where one visitor burst into tears during the evening meal. Apparently our conversation about smoking affecting your genes had been punned into a second conversations about fashion jeans. This poor unsuspecting guest had become completely confused and thought someone at the table was suggesting she should not be wearing jeans because they would stunt her growth. It took us some time to piece the tangential train of thought together; and even longer to assuage our visitor's distress.

Those days are long gone of course, but over the past two years I have spoken to many former visitors. To a person they all have fond memories of their stay, regardless of how brief. (Although there were some whom we thought would never leave!)

Investing in personal possessions was not something my parents every taught my siblings and me. Investment in emotional connections and personal relationships was considered far more important. So as they leave this week-end, there will not be a single thought given to what will become of the house after they go. The treasure-trove of memories they hold dear of the acquaintances and loved-ones that have filled the last 54 years is so large there is no room for thought of mere possessions.