(A post from Cecile's Facebook)
Weird how these moments happen. You stand at the stove, hear a sound, and glance over your shoulder. Like a thousand times before.
But this time, you see. You really see what is behind you.
I saw the corner of the huge weathered kitchen table we bought shortly after moving in, a table scarred and made beautiful by countless meals, alone, as a family, with friends, even strangers. Homework and tears and laughter and food and autumn afternoon light and flowers.
I see a Farsoft cap hanging on the one chair, quietly speaking about decades of intense hard work and dedication by a special man.
On another chair, some unique cloth shopping bags made by my wonderful creative mom. Also my very first watercolour painting – my mom helped and coached and the scene is typically Upington, the river, the reeds, the museum – my hometown, my heart.
I see printed photographs, the start of my delirious obsession with bugs and spiders, a lovely birthday present from my family. I see the clay tiles that keep reminding me of our link to the earth.
There is the sleeper coffee table with the wobbly legs that we got from my parents. Books – of course there are books. The art deco couch my parents also gave us, on it a bright orange frog my kids used to love and that is now being adored by various cats. A colourful butterfly quilt my mom made.
The open space we created, enduring months of dusty stressful renovations. A guitar, reminding me of a song a young man from the West Coast wrote for me more than 30 years ago.
The light green walls, lovingly painted by Oom Petrus, the wrought iron work around the lights, made by Tom, the artist who lived here before us.
Cat hair, lots of cat hair.
The piano. The instrument loved by Stephen, tuned by Martin, loved by friends and strangers during soirees.
A pastel sketch I did years ago. Condensed books that introduced me to wonderful authors when I was a child. A hat worn by my dad during earlier years. The luxurious red carpet that I enjoy every day. The staircase that creaks, made by a local carpenter from recycled wood from our old house.
The afternoon light.
The house.
I looked over my shoulder and I saw.
- Cecile
