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Archive for November, 2013

Wake me up when this is all over……

The green ball pushed hard against my chest as I strained to balance and to ‘keep my body still.’  My core muscles quivered and shook as every ounce of my energy was poured into just keeping my hands flat and my bottom in the air. It had been many years since I had rolled around on the floor like this and ‘played’ with a ball…..possibly half a century! The blood rushed into my head as I strained and moved into the next position. We were now on our backs and I had to balance and hold this giant ‘toy’ between my feet whilst lifting my torso off the floor. Oh no! The ball shot out and dashed across the floor. I fell back on my mat and contemplated the awkwardness of it all. I give up! There has to be a simpler way to get all these muscles to talk to each other after lying dormant all these years.

 

'Playing' on the floor.....

‘Playing’ on the floor…..

Wish I could stay forever this young……

The quest has begun within our family to keep fit. The imminent ski season is around the corner. Heaven help me! I still bare the scars from the last one. They continually egg me on and have me doing all sorts of activities that I never had time for when I was a ‘working girl.’ I sometimes think that it would be far easier to just curl up with a good book or gaze through the lounge window and watch the squirrels romp outside in the snow. This I could easily do while they are out there forging through the snowy slopes. But it is not to be, we are toning up and stretching out those stiff and sore joints in preparation for the family exploits.

Guided by my beating heart…….

Not only does the body need limbering up but the diet needed some revision too. All manners of fruit and vegetables get whirred around each morning to create a healthy smoothie. This is when the mother gets sweet revenge……all those years of pandering to the demands of the delectable pallets of fussy eaters….I just bung it all in! I get asked the question: ‘What is in the smoothie this morning?’ I quickly reply, “Oh, just fruit and then under my breath I whisper…..and a bit of beetroot and green pepper.” It is amazing how if you add just a touch of honey, it just masks all the ‘do- gooder veggies’ that you are trying to get down their throats!

 

Josh thinks.....this must be good if they eat it!

Josh thinks…..this must be good if they eat it!

So I don’t know where the journey will end……

I must admit I used to have to flog myself to get my butt up and off to my Pilates class, but I am thoroughly enjoying the feel of a less stiff body. The triumph of getting into positions, holding still there and the ‘good stiffness’ of worked muscles all adds to the feeling of accomplishment. Thanks Nancy, you make it all worth while!

It brings to mind a proverb from Africa in the Swahili language…..

‘Haba na haba hujaza kibaba’ which directly translated means ‘Little by little the measure is filled.’

 

 

 

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The last of the Fall leaves cling to the trees while the rest have surrendered. They have fallen down and lie in a carpet of red and yellow. Through the mist and the fine drizzle you can make out the proud silhouettes of the veterans. Their dark uniforms trimmed with medals and berets perched proudly on their heads. They have all come here today to salute and to pay homage to their fallen brethren. Their faces all tell a story as they stand each with their own thoughts of their different experiences. It is a moment of reverence for us all.  An elderly war hero addresses the crowd and pauses as he too remembers those ‘who never came home.’

How can one ever be the same after you have lived through a war? The fear that engulfs you before and during a mission…..the reality that each day might be your last…..the loss and devastation that tears through the people and their country…then the home coming and the difficult journey back to civilian life. It seems trivial that we can only imagine what it was like to be a participant. 

My dad, Frederick Creech

My dad, Frederick Creech

The Lancaster bomber drones ahead. It has been lovingly restored by a few flying enthusiasts at the Hamilton Aeronautical Museum in Canada and is playing an active role in the Remembrance Day commemorations.  It serves to remind us all of the vital role that this magnificent machine played during the 2nd World War. I was fortunate enough to hear firsthand about many of these Lancaster missions. My father was a bomber pilot and squadron leader during the 2nd World War in England. He would relate these ‘stories,’ albeit painful for him, with clear detail which always surprised me. I listened as my dad recounted these incidents that were imprinted in his memory: the raids over Germany at night, the bailing out of their aircraft when it was shot down and the joy of D-Day. These ‘war years’ had been but a few when you compare it to the 89 years that he was among us. The impact, however, was everlasting as it is with anyone who has to endure the experience of a war zone.

 My red poppies have a poignant memory for me today as I reflect on my courageous and wonderful father. I miss you, dad. 

 

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