May 2023 Editor's Fix
Spring has long been thought of a time of rebirth. A time of hope, playfulness, fresh air and childlike wonder.
In our family, my siblings and I have birthdays in spring as do my daughters and niece. So, it truly has always been a time of celebration. This year I have deeply ruminated on this, as spring has also become a time of tremendous loss. Our nana, who passed while we awaited our sweet Maria. Our mummu, as we celebrated Maria’s birthday. Our cousin, as we celebrated my niece. And most recently, our uncle as I awoke on my birthday.
It is a strange thing, to celebrate the sweet and beloved people in our lives while also feeling deep sorrow and grief.
I spent a few hours of my birthday alone with my bike, pedalling to a location I have always wished to share with my uncle. I listened to the birds as they flew above, noticed every butterfly along my path, immersed my feet into the cold waters of the Wigwam. I smiled and I cried and I felt incredibly grateful for life. As I turned to climb up onto the flats, I stopped to speak with the only person along my journey. He was a similar age to my uncle, using a beautiful wooden walking stick, and wearing the most appropriate gear for the occasion. It reminded me of him. He had walked from the Ram Creek entrance, and when he asked if I was heading back through the flats I said, as long as I can get up this hill (if you know, you know). “You can do it,” he said and off I went, feeling his gaze on me as I climbed, my heart beating steadily, my legs burning and my concentration on my line. When I looked back from the top, he raised his stick emphasising an approving “yes!”
Travelling across the Wig Wam flats, I felt lighter. The world felt brighter. And I knew while there will be hard times, there are many amazing moments to be remembered and created… and that gave me hope.