OCTOBER 2016
So now I have a room of my own. Every single thing in this room holds meaning for me. Nothing is purely decorative or functional, it’s as though I have boiled my life down to a rich essence and here it is surrounding me. My love of textiles and colour is apparent. David once commented that I had created ‘an Indian brothel’ in our family room at the farm. Yes, I had collected some brilliant saris in New Delhi and sewn them into curtains. Embroidered cushions, rugs and a colourful floor pouffe added to the effect. Well, if that room was a brothel, this one is an entire red-light district! Chairs covered in fabric from Rajasthan, silk and tribal rugs, piles of books waiting for the bookshelves that Ethan will build for me. The massive portrait of a melancholy David that was entered in the Archibald takes up half a wall and I position it so that his downcast eyes gaze at the wardrobe and not me when I’m in bed.
As I place each conserved item in its new home – on the wall or over the fireplace – I’m cheered. This space is perfect for me and it really is all I need. I can work on my computer or listen to music or catch the evening news on my small television. I can read for hours – I have gradually regained the ability to enjoy novels after three years of lacking the focus or the inclination. Now I relish getting lost in a story again, especially one where the words nurture me.
The family have already been living in the house for six months and they’ve developed a strong feeling for how it will work to support three generations. The kitchen is a shared family space and Lynne proposes that rather than tripping over each other to prepare meals together we have specific nights when we each cook. Three nights for me; three nights for her and one night when Ethan and their oldest son, Caius, prepare ‘Man Food’. Lynne will do the major shopping once a fortnight, keeping the pantry well-stocked with everything we need. On our designated cooking nights we choose whatever we fancy and buy what’s necessary. This means I still have the pleasure of planning a meal and shopping for the hero ingredient, which I’ve always loved doing, something that everyone will enjoy, plus some of the children’s absolute favourites. It’s never a chore but a labour of love.
Originally there was only one bathroom, but one of the small bedrooms has been converted into a large family bathroom with specific features to make it easier to care for their oldest disabled child Isabella. This leaves the original bathroom for me to use. There’s also an outside loo. I’ve always loved a house with an outside loo!
As my room was originally the main living room, we’re making do with using the dining room next to the kitchen as our family room. However, Ethan and Lynne have been working on plans to submit to council that will extend the back of the house into a huge communal living and dining room. It will be furnished with my treasured furniture that’s stored in the container.
The block of land is quite lovely, sloping with an open sunny area that will be ideal for our orchard and vegie garden; and a shady section of deciduous trees will form the basis of our ornamental garden. We’re all keen gardeners – unlike me, they both have horticultural training – so I feel confident that we can achieve great things in this space. There’s nothing better than youth and enthusiasm when creating a garden.
I start working on the new garden immediately. It’s early in the season and I send off for nursery catalogues from my favourite perennial and rose growers – mostly in Victoria. We spend many hours together in the evenings, poring over these tempting glossy booklets then ordering the plants online. There’s a large sunny section of lawn at the front of the house and I decide to create a perennial border there. I begin by watering it deeply, spreading cow manure then mulching to supress the grass. When the large boxes of tiny tubestock plants start being delivered, I draw a plan with taller growers at the back and low growers at the front. I’ve never been rigid in my gardening practices – I’m a bit chaotic and quite prepared to move things around if they don’t look quite right. For me, gardening has to be fun or it’s simply not rewarding. I don’t ever see the garden as a ‘chore’. It’s my happy place and I know it will play such an important part in my healing process.
In my new life, the perfect day is a cup of tea before starting very early in the garden, gradually getting more and more filthy and dishevelled as I work my way through the various newly planted beds. I have a small transistor radio in a basket with my hand tools, tuned to the classic music channel. I like to cook myself a little hot lunch – an omelette or pasta – and eat outside with a glass of wine. Then another hour in the garden, mostly tidying and putting things away, followed by a bath and an hour on my bed, reading. Invariably I have a short snooze. In the evening if there’s a chill in the air I light my little wood fire, pour more wine and watch the early news. Cook dinner if it’s my turn, in which case someone else cleans up. Indeed, the cooperative teenage boy in the house rinses the plates and pots and stacks the dishwasher every single night.
I don’t watch television drama very much; mostly current affairs and maybe comedy if it’s on. Usually I read again for a few hours then turn out the lights.
My first undertaking, apart from the garden, is to wean myself off the antidepressant drugs and I do so under the eye of my new GP, a woman I’ve known for more than thirty years during my previous time in the Mountains. I do it gradually and suffer no backlash. Immediately I start to feel more clear-headed and in control. The medication helped me tremendously during a time when I was overwhelmed but I no longer need it.
When I turn out the light at night, snug in our old bed with David’s T-shirts still under the pillow, I feel safe. Not safe from any imagined threat or danger; just safe in my surroundings. I haven’t felt like this, in truth, since David died. It’s such a good feeling. I am safe.