As a quieter person, I sometimes find my thoughts moving more slowly than the conversation around me. This little poem is a reflection on those moments, and on the memory of my dad, who had a quiet way of listening that made space for me.
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This is where I did most of my degree: an old corner desk that was never really designed for handwritten notes, but which I gradually turned into a small command centre.
Continue ReadingThis little poem came from finding a gecko beside the back door one morning. It was so perfectly still, and so firmly attached to the wall, that even after I realised it had died I kept half-expecting it to suddenly spring back to life and run away.
Continue ReadingAt the beginning of 2024, I was still finding my way through the loss of my dad. Somehow, in the middle of that grief, I had finished my studies. With that chapter closed, I found myself clearing space, letting go of what no longer felt right and trying to work out what might come next.
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The death of Sinéad O’Connor sent me back to her music. She was part of my generation – Generation X – and listening again, I found myself thinking about why we were so often described as angry.
Continue ReadingThis poem is about losing my dad, and the regret that comes with looking back.
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Rosie came to us at a time when the house felt very empty. She needed a home, and we needed a dog to love.
Continue ReadingSpook and Ebony had shared so many years with us that saying goodbye to them was heartbreaking. In the end, letting them go together was the last kindness we could give them.
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This photo has become especially precious to me, as it is the last I have with my dad. At the time it was simply a happy family birthday lunch; now I’m grateful Mum caught this quiet moment between us.
Continue ReadingJo was sitting in her garden when I arrived so I joined her. It was lovely in the sun, sitting quietly and chatting together.
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Sunday was book sorting day at Jo’s place. Jo has occasionally stated that she may become a book collector. I think that she already is a book collector, she just hasn’t specialised in a particular area.
Continue ReadingThis poem grew from reading Thich Nhat Hanh’s reflections on communication – the idea that our words can either wound or nurture, and that kindness begins with how we choose to speak.
Continue ReadingWhat once felt deeply hurtful has softened with time into something I can finally smile about. This poem is my attempt to find the humour in a moment that, at the time, felt anything but funny.
Continue ReadingWith the freedom of being an out-of-work student, I decided to do something I had never done before and signed up to work for the Australian Electoral Commission at the federal election.
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Two little pieces of my childhood, both long thought lost, found their way back to me within weeks of each other.
Continue ReadingThis post grew from a university assignment, when my husband kindly let me interview him about his work in forensic fingerprints. What began as research became a fascinating glimpse into how much the job has changed with technology — and how much still depends on human judgement.
Continue ReadingSome of my favourite memories are the ordinary ones – time at home with my husband, the dogs nearby, and the garden full of life after the rain.
Continue ReadingThis post was written in early 2022, when war in Ukraine, the lingering COVID pandemic and devastating floods in eastern Australia seemed to arrive all at once. It was one of those moments when history felt uncomfortably close to everyday life.
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A new car came sooner than expected, after a test drive reminded me that practicality matters — but so does enjoying the drive.
Continue ReadingAfter fourteen years with the same company, I finally decided it was time to leave. I didn’t have the next chapter mapped out, only the sense that I was ready for something different – beginning with finishing my degree.
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