, , , , ,

To My Baby,

What a beautiful time of year this is. As I sit writing the frogs are croaking madly and it is in between downpours. I have the computer on the deck and a cup of tea in hand. The wind is gently blowing and because I am really quiet I can hear the soft thump as the pademelons graze.

It reminds me that summer is nearly here. There is a sense of nostalgia I get whenever the first rains come. This wistful feeling is not just memories of the previous Summer, I think it is because I was a child in this part of the country. I remember the hot Summer wet season, the excitement when it rains, the sound as it pounds on tin roof, the green frogs calling for more. I think the love of these things is encoded in me somewhere. I know it is the same for your Nan who also grew up near here. I have lived in many other places but I think where you start life is somehow imprinted on you. Your Grandad was in the RAAF and so Dad travelled a lot when they were kids. Now, he loves to explore and travel and to feel that his feet are free to wander.

Speaking of, your Dad is out fishing. He doesn’t usually catch too much but that doesn’t matter – it’s not about the catching, it’s about going. This is important to remember, as one day he will be taking you with him.

I am pleased that you will grow up with these images of home – the smells of fresh rain, the sound of the frogs and the feel of the raindrops on your skin. I can’t guarantee we will live here forever but I think somewhere you will always be rainforest babies at heart.

Love Mum x

P.S. If you could dislodge from under my left rib it would be much appreciated.

This slideshow requires JavaScript.