Regaining my voice

It could be deduced from my last post, that my erstwhile screaming induced a subsequent tide of family trauma and illness in which I lost my voice. I hadn't yet got into the blogging habit, and so sharing here was not foremost in my thoughts.

With large sighs of relief, big enough to fill a sky-soaring hot air balloon, complete with human cargo and accompanying paraphernalia, family life is settling down and better health is trickling through.

September is here and I am transfixed, misty eyed with mellow fruitfulness as I contemplate the slow calming of the seasons while the year begins to wind down. In contrast, for me Autumn has always meant a time of fresh beginnings, renewed intentions and the drive for change.

However, a year ago I was propelled into limbo when my mother died. She was 89 and had lived with dementia for many years. I thought all was for the worst and no hope would enter here. But 12 months on, with a slow passing of familial stresses to some haphazard emotional resolutions, at last I am comprehending the enduring nature of spirit that drives me, and I am grateful to Mum for that.