The Lady in the Back Row

Last night we lit our first fire in years.

The barrel was one we picked up off the side of the road. An old table gave up its iron top for a lid. Yesterday we bought a small iron grate to sit inside it. Pieced together. Practical. Ours.

I cut the wood myself with a hacksaw — slow, steady work from branches I’d saved. There was something grounding in that rhythm. Making use of what was already here.

We had a simple BBQ. A new solar torch lit the yard for the first time. I noticed the grass turning back to green after months of scorched yellow.

Quiet recovery.

My girl hasn’t been good these last few days. So I took the kids with me. Sometimes you don’t fix anything — you just build a fire and sit in its light.

Today the younger ones are swimming at the pool. Another warm day.

Keep moving.

Keep showing up.

Steady forward.

Coffee before my hair appointment. Grateful.

My grandchildren stayed overnight — just lovely.

I used to change hairdressers often. That stopped after what happened to my daughter. She went to a vegan hairdresser and walked out with her hair burnt off. Years of growth gone in one visit.

Hair isn’t just hair. It holds identity. Confidence. Time.

Now I stay with someone who knows what they’re doing. For me, loyalty is trust.

There’s hardship in the world, I know that. But I’ve learned it’s okay to be grateful for the small things too.

Summer is quietly drawing to a close.

The last few days have carried gentle hints of it, warmth lingering in the air, but this morning I was woken by the loudest thunderstorm. The kind that reminds you the seasons are shifting whether you’re ready or not. The ground is soaked, yet the air still holds that late-summer warmth.

Change is here.

Leaves are beginning to shed, colours softening and turning. Nature never resists its renewal, it adjusts, releases, prepares for what’s next.

There’s something comforting in that rhythm.

Life is much the same. Forever renewing. Forever recalibrating.

It’s the last day of the work week and it’s a hectic one, but I’ve taken my lunch outside in the yard. Sitting amongst the beauty of it all, even briefly, feels grounding.

Grateful for the pause.

Grateful for the season.

Grateful for the steady forward.

I just got lost in an Instagram hole.

It’s Thursday.

I need to get up and get ready for work.

But as I sit here, I notice something different.

My whole nervous system feels less crisis-driven.

Calmer.

The energy around me feels steadier.

Not that everything is perfect, but it’s not urgent, not chaotic, not overwhelming.

Things seem to be getting better.

Slowly.

Not in big dramatic leaps. Just small, quiet shifts forward.

Slowly but surely.

There’s a different rhythm in the air now.

Less survival mode.

More steadiness.

Positive energy. Positive vibes.

And today, that feels like enough.

There is always a problem at work.

That’s what I’m employed to resolve.

Policies and procedures exist for a reason, to ensure fairness, consistency, and integrity.

They are meant to protect people, not to be manipulated for personal gain.

When I witness bullying in the workplace, especially when policy is twisted to benefit the very behaviour it’s designed to prevent, I won’t ignore it.

I believe in considering extenuating circumstances, but not at the expense of fairness.

Too often, it becomes survival of the fittest. Or worse, survival of the loudest.

We need to be better than that.

Pettiness and bullying are a waste of my time and energy. They distract from purpose and erode trust.

I listen. I assess. I’m comfortable agreeing to disagree. And I choose to err on the side of honesty, even when it isn’t the easiest path.

Life is both simple and complicated in that way.

Let’s see how this unfolds.

I’m hopeful that, in the end, the good prevails.

I had almost forgotten the irritation of traffic congestion after working from home for so long.

One day a week in the office now feels like a luxury, and a reminder.

The early rise.

The steady crawl through the morning commute.

Then doing it all again in the afternoon.

By the time I walk back through my front door, nearly two extra hours have quietly disappeared from the day.

It isn’t just “going into the office.”

It’s the time it takes, the unseen edges around the workday that stretch it longer than it needs to be.

Once the daily routine kicks in at home, the evening feels shorter, tighter.

By late evening I find myself reflecting: I truly couldn’t imagine doing that five days a week anymore.

Perhaps it’s age. Perhaps it’s perspective.

Or maybe it’s simply that since Covid, working predominantly from home has shown me a different rhythm of life.

Grateful for that rhythm.

Grateful for the time at home. 🏠

Back in the office today, it is only required one day per week.

A sense of normality slowly returning as my girl looks like she’s recovering. I hope with everything in me that she continues to move forward.

The past eighteen months have taught me to take nothing for granted. So many times it has felt like we were holding our breath, waiting. Now I am simply taking each day as it comes, grateful for every small step forward. It is a great feeling, not loud or dramatic, just steady gratitude.

My heart goes out to the carers who walk this road without the hope of recovery. The strength required to keep showing up every day is something most people will never truly understand.

Working from home has its advantages and its challenges. There is comfort in the quiet, but isolation too.

Getting ready, putting my best foot forward, makeup on, nicer clothes, stepping back out into the world.

I’m looking forward to interacting with people again. A little more connection. A little more life.

And for now, that feels like progress.

Up early. Pilates done.

The rain lightly falling while I sit in the yard before the day properly begins.

Today is the sixth day of Chinese New Year — traditionally known as “sending away poverty”.

A day to clear out the old and make space for what’s ahead.

That feels fitting.

Today I’m cleaning out drawers. Washing the bedding. Freshening the space I live in before the week begins.

Later, hang out with the kids, help get them ready for the week.

Maybe go for a drive.

Simple. Steady. Ready.

My girl seems to be improving after 18 months.

I’m quietly hopeful and crossing my fingers it continues.

This weekend has been lovely, spending the past two days with four of the five grandchildren.

The girls have just returned from a cruise and were full of wonderful stories.

We just shop, eat food, taxi service driving, exploring, sit around, watch movies, online.

Fun, grounding, grateful.

Simple moments together, and that’s more than enough. ❤️

There is a quiet kind of strength that doesn’t look dramatic.

It doesn’t announce itself.

It doesn’t demand applause.

It simply shows up again today.

This season isn’t about reinvention.

It’s about regulation.

It’s about tending to what already stands.

Health is no longer a crisis to solve.

It is maintenance to honour.

Home is not decoration.

It is structure.

It is systems.

It is energy management.

Growth isn’t loud.

It is disciplined repetition.

Watering the same soil.

Walking the same boundary.

Checking the fence.

Feeding what feeds you.

Stability is not stagnation.

It is controlled momentum.

The world pulls toward urgency.

But strength is built in steadiness.

Today I choose consistency over intensity.

Clarity over chaos.

Maintenance over burnout.

This is how foundations are protected.

This is how resilience becomes design.

This is how life holds.