It’s the rays of light from her sweet-sixteen eyes
It’s the curl of his grin and his little legs that spin
It’s the smacking of lips at the aroma of a braai
And the ribbing of our vegans,
who take the jibes as if God himself borrowed them His smile
It’s the setting aside of worries, if only for a few hours
It’s the irreverent banter which sends us imploring St Agnes
It’s the welcome distraction that lunch is on the table
It’s the Cape breeze that whispers, “you’ll lose out if what you’re seeking is perfection”
It’s the passing down the line of happy birthday cake
It’s the swatting of ‘frog beetles’ who seem to like the colour red
It’s the lamentations of a darling boy,
who can’t understand why his fun in a dirty pond is about to come to an end
It’s missing the presence of those who are gone, and those who are far away
It’s recognising that we can all be full of it,
And that we must allow each other ‘those’ days.
It’s accepting that while some of us share DNA,
that family is gloriously more than flesh and common traits
It’s the beauty of Divine chaos,
like when you start to digest difficult lessons.
It’s the twenty days of September,
when you’re reminded that amongst the damage is great splendour
Bernadette Richards is from Cape Town. She is inspired by diverse forms of art and believes that creativity is one of the best forms of therapy.