And so, we have come to the end of yet another year. For me, 40 winters have come and gone, of which 17 I shared with a wonderful man. But this time of the year, I often reflect on the 23 winters I have shared with my birth family.
The days between Christmas and New Year were always spent at my maternal grandparents' home on 12th Avenue, Edenvale. My grandmother was the eldest of 12 children, and the house and garden were filled with people of all ages. Aunts, uncles, cousins - we all celebrated together. Ouma Non, as she was fondly known, must have been the glue that kept the family together because everything changed when she passed away 12 winters ago.But today, I do not wish to write about change. I want to share beautiful memories. Memories which make my life worth living.
I remember colouring with my aunt. She was only 14 years old when I was born, and I treasure countless afternoons of colouring with her. She taught me how to colour between the lines. I remember a particular technique she used when colouring. Instead of using the pencil, she sharpened the tip and, using her finger in circular movements, applied the colour dust (from sharpening) to the page. It created a softer colour than using only the pencil.
Camping weekends in Kareekloof. Early morning walks with my darling father, listening to the baboons barking in the distance. Breakfast like just my father can prepare. Horse rides, water slides and watching the night sky for satellites.
Holidays at the South Coast of Natal twice a year. Driving down the halfway stop at Harrismith, opening the car windows as we drive into Umhlanga to smell the ocean. The excitement as my sister and I ran ahead to our room each time while our father finalised the check-in administration. Again, early morning runs along the beach with my father. We always stopped at the local corner cafe for bread on our way back to the hotel room. Swimming in the ocean with my father way beyond the breakers. Visiting the Sharks Board, the oceanarium, and spending an evening at the Marine Parade with cable car and Riksha rides.
Ballet classes. How can I forget 'jumping the crocodile'? That is how our ballet teacher taught us to do the grand jetés. This is the jump where the dancer throws both legs in opposite directions at 90 degrees while jumping.
Birthday parties. Since my first birthday, my parents have entertained more than 40 children and their parents at home each year. My father entertained us in the swimming pool each year, even on my 21st birthday. Mother baked for days before each party, and tit-bits were packed into boxes for each child, after which we decorated the boxes. Father inflated balloons all morning, tying a massive bunch to the sidewalk gate so no one could miss the party house.
Bike rides. How I loved putting my arms around my father as I rode on the back of his bike. I must have been about six or seven years old when he bought his first motorbike. My helmet was blue - it has always been my favourite colour.
Driving lessons. Oh my goodness. My father is the most impatient man I know when teaching his 18-year-old daughter to drive. I don't want to know how many insurance claims my father must have had in my first year of driving. I can remember three accidents. Eventually, I insisted on driving lessons with a third party and, on my second attempt, managed to obtain a driving license.
My first car. It was such a surprise - in more than one way. After we popped a bottle of sparkling wine to celebrate the new car (surprise number one), I had to sign a contract stipulating that I would pay the monthly instalments (surprise number two). My father has a way with surprises, but I love him for that.
Serving my country as a policewoman. I joined the South African Police Services as a reservist while still a student alongside my father, who has served as a policeman for several years. During this time, the highlight of my week was target practice since my father was the joke of the day because his daughter was more accurate at handling a pistol. I remember being on patrol (on foot) on freezing cold winter nights. Roadblocks at 1am in the morning. And how can I forget all the paperwork back at the station?
Then I experienced a couple of winters that I wish I could forget. But it didn't last long.
17 Winters ago, I met a man whose voice should be declared a national treasure (Sunday Times:2005). We eloped to get married 15 winters ago, and my father was at the airport to greet the newlywed couple. He even decorated our vehicle! How he found it between thousands of other parked cars remains a mystery.
Over the past 17 winters, I moved house 13 times. I have worked at more than 20 companies. I have cared for more than 30 dogs. But one thing remained constant - the two men at my side. I am blessed to have them, and I wish they would both be at my side for many winters to come.
At the end of each year, I compile a list of New Year's resolutions; this year is no different.
- Grow my own business
- Support my husband in making his business a success.
- Pay off 50% of my debt.
- Lose 20kg.
Each of these resolutions has a list of actions I must take to turn them into realities. It is not going to be an easy task, but it is being said that life begins at 40, and if this saying is true, 2014 will be MY year.
My wish for you is that you can reflect on your past and remember the good times and that you will take your resolutions and turn them into realities.
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