~ If I Could Turn Back Time ~

Posted: July 25, 2019 in Competitions, Down Syndrome, FAMILY, Family stories, gratitude, grief, kids, Kindness, loss, love, memories, Mother, parenting, Whanau, Writing

School started again this week. Talk about from “whoa” to go. We went from sleep ins and no schedules, to waking at the crack of dawn for exercise regimens and sports practices before school, multiple appointments for everyone, and extracurricular activities after school. I feel like I’ve been running since my feet hit the floor at 6 a.m. Monday morning. It has been an utter madhouse around here.

The youngest son sprained his ankle at the end of last term. We’ve been doing a regimen of exercises each day and attending physiotherapy each week. The middle son needed an eye exam on Tuesday and new glasses.

The guy turned up to finish the trimming of the hedges leaving me a piles of branches to dismantle.

001 (8)

There has been a bombardment of emails from schools, sports coaches, music and dance teachers. A lot has been going on.

One of the things I did this week was to take my sixteen-year-old son with Down syndrome to the University, to take part in a study on Keratoconus, the degenerative eye disease which can often affect those with Down syndrome. If the disease goes undetected, the changing shape of the cornea can lead to progressive vision loss. I was told my boy has two lumps on one cornea and one on the other. So we will be screened again to monitor changes. We were lucky they picked it up. And since the study being done will be of worldwide significance, it was a win-win situation to participate.

001

By Wednesday night, I was exhausted. Yet, the youngest and I had to stay up late and bake the scones he takes to school each day in his lunches.

Yesterday, I had the kids to organize, a full day of errands, plus the grocery shopping. I was feeling dispirited.

It’s at times like these that I miss my mother, who passed away in 2015. Ma had an uncanny ability to tune in when I was going through difficult times, and she would give me a call. When I visited my parents in their small seaside town every five weeks, mum would have flowers in a vase in my room and a hot water bottle heating up my bed at night. She surrounded me with love and a feeling of being of cared about.

13502006_10208582145142875_6200044633615959004_n (2)

I remember there was this one time that happened six years ago. After working on my middle grade story for years, I had submitted the manuscript to an international story competition, the prize offered was book publication. As an unpublished author at the time, the prize was considerable. On the official website, they said, those who don’t hear back are the finalists. I didn’t hear back so naturally I was jubilant. Until upon further enquiry, I discovered that not only had I not made it into the finals, but the organisers had not received the manuscript at all, due to my fatal error in calculating the time difference between the countries. I’d missed their deadline by a day.

1920433_10201624617518478_328805645_n

In my mind, I had thought I was close to breaking through the glass ceiling. Instead I was back at square one. Devastated, I fell into a black hole that lasted for seven days. At the end of that week, I got a phone-call. I heard my mother’s voice. She said, “The darkest hour always comes before the dawn. You may think all is lost right now, but it isn’t. This is just the start of great things opening up for you. You’ll see!” I remember I wept. Even though my mother was failing in her later years, she always knew when to ride in on the silver horse.

Yesterday, there I was going through the motions of my to-do list and feeling weary. I wished I could turn back time and pick up the phone to hear Ma’s voice saying something wise and knowing and caring.

IMG_5236

Then, as I went about doing the family grocery shopping, I began to find a gold coin here, a gold coin there on the ground. And I thought of Ma. My mother was famously generous with her cash. She was always slipping me a fiver, that sort of thing. It was almost as if Ma was giving me little gifts from heaven. I don’t know if it was true, but it helped put a smile on my face again.

Sometimes it doesn’t matter whether a thing is “true” or not, it just matters that you believe it. Sometimes it’s that small leap of imaginative faith that gets you through to the other side of things and you feel better. Onwards and upwards, I say.

1342984639

Talk to you later.

Keep on Creating!

Yvette K. Carol

*

No man can ever appreciate the debt he owes his mother, but sometimes a little thing may come up to set him thinking. ~ Edwin Robinson

*

 

Subscribe to my Newsletter by emailing me with “Newsletter Subscription” in the subject line to: yvettecarol@hotmail.com

 

 

Comments
  1. What a delightful story about your mom. I now pretend to talk to my mom, or that she talks to me, even in death. If I hear an unexpected noise, it’s her. I don’t tell people. Just enjoy it.

    Liked by 1 person

    • yvettecarol says:

      Thanks, Jacqui. It’s one of the many fond memories I have of her. And, I know what you mean, there are things that happen sometimes, and I just smile to myself and feel comforted yet say not a word. 🙂

      Like

  2. emaginette says:

    You are so right. Believing is half the battle. Chin up. 🙂

    Anna from elements of emaginette

    Liked by 1 person

  3. cleemckenzie says:

    It seems that we all still talk to our moms. I certainly do, and to my gram as well. They were two women who I will miss forever.

    When I read your post, I truly felt the disappointment about that late manuscript. It’s hard enough to not be chosen because a story doesn’t fit the mix, but when it happens because of “mechanical” errors it’s doubly hard.

    So glad the doctors discovered your son’s eye problem and that they can help him.

    As you say, keep writing!

    Liked by 1 person

    • yvettecarol says:

      Thanks, Clee. Yes, I’m so glad we’ve managed to act fast and get an early intervention with Sam’s eyes.
      And, as for that disappointment, I think it hit me so much because I truly let myself believe for the first time that I’d made it through. When I don’t expect anything, it’s fine, but when you let that window open a bit and get your hopes up, the blow hits doubly hard.
      I’m glad to hear you talk to your mother and grandmother – I talk to both my grandmothers, too!

      Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s