Pour ma dame en rose

Si seulement je pouvais vous dire

tout ce que je voulais dire:

Je voudrais vous dire que je veux me perdre dans vos yeux

qui brillent comme la lune sur l’oceon

Que j’ai envie de sentir tes levres parfaites

donnez-moi le baiser parfait

Et que je donnerais mille couchers de soleil

juste pour voir votre sourire

Je voudrais vous dire que vous etes mon ange, mon seul…mon tout


Happy Birthday Dad

On the 26th of April 1942, my father was born. Today is his 73rd birthday.
Watching him dozing on the sofa beside me, I see the man that worked so hard to provide for his family. I see the man that made sure we were never without. He, along with my mom, made sure that I saw the very best orthodontist to rectify the problems with my teeth, and endeavoured to see it through to the end. All the long journeys, the surgeries, the overnight hospital stays. On top of that, they always had a new gift to cheer me up at the end of it and help aid my recovery.
I shudder to think of the expense of my treatment, but they never once mentioned the cost of it all.

I see dozens of images of my dad flash through my mind. Memories of him driving, sitting in the garden reading the newspaper, laughing with my mom, timekeeping at the swimming galas that my sister and I used to attend, adding another sticker to his growing collection on the back of his 4×4, deciding which hat he will wear from his hat collection, falling asleep on the sofa, working at his desk until 4am, the list goes on…

I remember the first time I saw my dad cry. I had gone into surgery for my teeth, but the doctors hadn’t detected that I had pneumonia and it caused complications with the surgery. I wasn’t waking up from the anaesthesia and my parents were worried I wouldn’t wake up at all. I eventually woke in the early hours of the next morning, and when I did, there he was waiting for me to wake up. I will always remember how he walked over to me with tears in his eyes and a smile on his face, a look of such relief at the knowledge that I was going to be okay. I can’t imagine having woken up without him there with those tears in his eyes.

I realise that I don’t know everything about my Dad. Born in England, his family left for Africa in his teens. Some of his life was lived in the likes of Kenya, where he was a part of the Kenyan regiment. He had a lot of stories to share about his days there where, I learned, he also used to race motorbikes. Apparently my old Dad was quite the rogue, always managing to get up to something. He later moved to South Africa and then finally to the country of my birth, Swaziland, where he founded a football team and raced rally cars with my mom. Later on he started his own company and worked day and night to try and make it a success and provide for his family.

I wish I could learn more about my dad, and the adventures he got up to at my age. I wish that I could sit and have a long conversation with him, laugh with him and learn from him.I wish I could thank him for everything he did for us. I wish it could be so, but it can’t…. My father has Alzheimers.

So, Dad, I may not be able to have a conversation with you, tell you about my day, get your advice or laugh and reminisce about the good old days…but I will always, always love you with all of my heart. Happy Birthday Dad, I love you.

Forever waiting

Waiting rooms. I can’t stand them. I spent a better part of twelve years of my life in waiting rooms. Waiting rooms, operating theatres, recovery rooms. I spent so many years waiting. Waiting to see the doctor, waiting to go home, waiting to get better, waiting to recover, waiting to be able to eat again, waiting to go back to the doctor, waiting to see the doctor again. Waiting.

Cleidocranial dysostosis. Though I had a mild form of this relatively rare condition, it still took up a rather large chunk of my life. Twelve years, I would say that it is a significant portion of a person’s life. Twelve years I spent waiting. Waiting for it to be over. I knew that it would be one day. That I just had to persevere and be patient. “Good things come to those who wait.” I used to tell myself. “One day it will all be over.” I would think. Every visit I would wait for the doctor to say that it wouldn’t be long now. The words never came. Hope dwindled and with it my confidence. I was a short teenager with braces, and when I didn’t have braces, I had special plates to attach to the chains that were buried in my gums and around the teeth that needed to be pulled down as they wouldn’t come down of their own accord.


Waiting for the teeth to emerge so that I could return to my orthodontist. Waiting so that he could remove the chains and refit new braces to straighten the teeth.


Waiting for the pain to subside so that I might be able to actually eat a proper meal, not just scrambled eggs.


For the teeth to be straight so I could return for another plate or brace or operation.

Waiting for it all to be over.

5 years later and I still remember that waiting room. I still remember the face of the receptionist as she handed me my file to take in to the orthodontist. I had the biggest file in their records. I was their longest patient. The most visits, the most number of surgeries. I was practically famous, yet for all the wrong reasons.

I remember how I used to dread lying on that damn chair, and how I used to stare at that damned ceiling trying not to focus on what he was doing. Waiting for him to push his chair back and say ” Okay, that’s all for today Nicholas. I will see you in another 6 weeks. ”

I remember times where my mouth was clamped open, a suction tube hanging in the corner of my mouth to suck out the saliva I wasn’t able to swallow. My mouth would go dry and my jaw muscles would be so excruciatingly painful from being held so wide open for so long, and I would wait. A tear would stream from my eye down to my ear, and all I could do was close my eyes and dream of a better time, a better place for half an hour, until I had to come back to reality. To deal with whatever else was fitted in my mouth for the next six weeks.

Wait for my next surgery. Those were always fun. Waking up the next day or even the same day, not really knowing where you are. Throwing up the blood that you inevitably swallowed during the operation.

Waiting for the next visit, because every visit meant one closer to the end. Waiting for the next surgery, because every surgery meant there was one less to be had. Waiting for visiting hours because ICU can be so lonely. Waiting to go home because I couldn’t stand the hospital any longer.

I waited because I knew there had to be something better. I don’t know where I found the strength. There were more times than I can count that I thought it would easier to just give up, to end it all. No more waiting. No more waiting to be told to wait some more, and more after that.

I couldn’t.

I wouldn’t.

I waited.

This post was written as an entry to the Daily Post topic – Waiting room :ย โ€œGood things come to those who wait.โ€ Do you agree? How long is it reasonable to wait for something you really want?

Some things are worth waiting for and other things are not. It’s up to you to decide how long you are willing to wait for something and if you feel that your wait will be worth it.

Sometimes we wait for things or people to find that it just was not worth it and that we wasted our time. That’s a lesson learnt.

Sometimes in the wait we learn things, about ourselves, about other people. Sometimes the wait makes us stronger.

There are times when we should wait and other times when we shouldn’t.

It’s up to you if it’s worth it and how long you are willing to ride it out.

Her eyes

A world without colour

Now could you imagine that,

A world where all that we see

Are in hues of white and black.


Could you find it possible

To live in monotone colour,

A tedious life with no difference

Between one and the other.


I can think of but one thing

Wait make that two,

That in a world void of colour

Without which I simply could not do.


A pair of eyes I confess

without a shadow of a doubt,

Belonging to my love

Whom I could never be without.


So strip my world of all colour

But spare me just one hue,

In her eyes I pray

You will leave her deep ocean blue.


Read what other colours people would keep in a world stripped of colour at the daily prompt here :ย http://dailypost.wordpress.com/dp_prompt/local-color/

That speechless moment

Today’s daily prompt Curve Ballsย says:

When was the last time you were completely stumped by a question, a request, or a situation you found yourself in? How did you handle it?

This was the moment that came to my mind :

There we were at the bar. I was sitting talking with another girl, when you walked up with two shots of tequila. You told me that you loved tequila and I told you that you were my new favorite person. I loved tequila too, and no one would drink with me because they couldn’t keep up the pace. You, however, weren’t afraid to go the distance.

So it was with the taste of tequila in our mouths that we headed for the bar. We stood, we talked, we drank, we laughed, we joked with the barman and we drank some more.

You bought a round of shots for you and I. I made to kiss you on the cheek, a gesture to say thank you. ย You turned your head and you pressed your beautiful soft lips to mine…. We stood for a second, we smiled, then we drank, we joked with the barman and we drank some more.

That speechless moment, that first kiss, will be forever my fondest memory of you…



Change five things in my life?

Today’s daily prompt is called To-Do? Done! and it says this :

Quickly list five things youโ€™d like to change in your life. Now, write a post about a day in your life once all five have been crossed off your to-do list.

So five things I would like to change in my life. Well yes, I would most probably like to change many things in my life, as everyone probably would. There is always a moment in a day when you think ” if only I was /ย had / did ” or ” I wish I was / had / did.” There are always those moments when we wish that we were different, or that we could change something in our lives, and for that moment we can imagine an alternate reality. However when faced with the question of listing five things I would change in my life, this must be my answer:


Nothing, really!?? Why? You might ask. The answer is quite simple. I have asked myself this question several, several thousands of times even, over the years and I have imagined those alternate realities. It is in those alternate realities that I discover someone else, a stranger in my body, in my mind.

The fact of the matter is, that I am who I am, and if I were to change anything I would not be me, I would be a stranger.

Let me explain….

As a child I was very short, however it didn’t matter to me as I was great at swimming, and everyone knew it. I took pleasure in being underestimated due to my size and to see the shock of other swimmers faces when they finished the race just to see that they got beaten by a shorty. I had confidence, and behind me I had a comfortable life. My family had enough money and I wanted for nothing.

Overtime things changed.

Nobody wanted to date a short shit, I was teased for my large nose, I discovered I had a dental problem which took twelve years of treatment including several operations, painful treatments, painful recoveries, and the wearing of devices that weren’t the most fashionable. We faced financial problems, I stopped doing all the sports that I loved and my self esteem plummeted to an all time low, and puberty brought along a deterioration in my skin just to ice the cake.

I could explain in more detail but I think you catch the drift.

Things just seemed to get worse, as my dad’s business went bust and we were forced to sell the house that my sister and I grew up in. Eventually almost broke, Dad was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. We up and sold every possession in order to move to UK to get the right treatment for my father and in hope of better opportunities for us all. Not quite what we planned, but we are surviving somehow.

So again, why would I not change anything?

All the pain and loss I experienced growing up humbled me to a tremendous extent and taught me so many lessons in life and the appreciation of life. When you spend four weeks on a liquid diet due to your jaws being tied shut after an operation….you learn the appreciation of food.

You see, I took all that I had for granted, and when it was all gone, I missed it, but I learnt to appreciate what I did have and the person that I became as a result of triumphing over my testing times in life

I could have become the pompous, rich kid, who had all the money, the girls, the cars, the bikes, but I would be that pompous rich kid, with the attitude, the constant chip on his shoulder, expecting people to kiss the ground he walked on. I just don’t see myself that way.

I learnt the hard way that everything in life needs to be appreciated, most of all family, because in a blink of an eye they can be taken from you. I now believe in earning whatever I get. I work hard to support myself and my family and I work hard to earn the money that I use to pay for my possessions. I am who I am because of the life I lived, and the life that I live now; I wouldn’t change that.

Life is difficult, but any lessons worth learning were never easy and that is why I say, when considering this question on a serious note…. I wouldn’t change anything. There is a lot of good that has been discovered in the wreckage left by the bad even if we still have to live in the rubble.

Why do we do the whole – pretend it never happened – thing?


We’ve all done it. I know that I have and I know that you have too, at some point.
Situation avoidance. Remember back when we were kids. If we did something wrong, firstly we would try not to get caught, but then we would completely avoid the situation or topic. We didn’t want our parents nagging us. There were also times where simply not talking about something, or to someone was the easiest option, and as kids, we were inclined to take the easiest way out. I know I was. Other times, perhaps, we were just afraid.
So topics were dropped, feelings left unexpressed, words left unspoken.
It’s somewhat understandable for a child to act in this manner, after all they are children, young and inexperienced in the ways of life. We know that from once being children ourselves.

My question is that why do we, as adults, still perform these avoidance tactics? Surely we are old enough and mature enough now? We have lived life and we have seen first hand from our parents and elders, and especially from ourselves that it does not help.
Any topic, feelings, words that are not spoken about or expressed, will not simply disappear. Instead they will remain where you choose not to see them, festering like a bowl of uneaten fruit left to lie in the sun. As they lay there in the back of your mind, festering between you and whoever the other person may be, they are slowly poisoning you, poisoning that relationship. Whether it be between a mother and daughter, a sister and brother, a lovers relationship, or a friendship, any kind of relationship.
That poison will spread, and eventually like an infected limb, there will be no choice left but to sever it off. Leaving you in the days, weeks, months to follow, thinking how much you miss that limb.

My point is that we, as adults, should be able to realise this, be brave enough to confront our problems and express our feelings to the people that matter. We can’t just get to the river, and upon finding no bridge, decide not to cross. It may be easier, but we will be left never knowing what was on the other side, and whether or not it was worth crossing for. No. We must find a way to cross that river. Even if it means walking all the way downstream to find a crossing. Even if it means building a damn bridge. It may take time, but in the end you will never regret not trying.

Have you been faced with a difficult situation that you would rather avoid to save yourself the trouble? What did you do, avoid it? Or confront it? And do you think you made the right choice?
Please share your thoughts in a comment.