The opposite of nimble

At my boxing class this morning, back after a one week's hiatus for Easter, I felt the polar opposite of nimble. I groaned. I huffed. I puffed. But I went and I participated. I'm living life and feeling good. Muscles are stiff and achy, but I feel good. Lest this post appears to be tainted…

The Twins

My twin loves. Not identical, but still mischievous. Eleven now, so different to each other, but similar in many ways too. Connected by a force I can't possibly understand. I see it, I hear it, but the depth of their attachment evades me. No matter what goes down between them, they always look after each…

Rash and Anxiety

A small gathering stands to one side of the pitch as the family arrives. They hang back from the group. The woman's brow is tightly drawn. She grips the arm of her husband, as if keeping him with her. His face is unreadable, but he offers a slight nod. With his left hand, he nudges…

Bess Remembers (short fiction)

Before the accident, Jilly juggled work and motherhood with her trademark shrewd skill. Her daughter remembers. Bess spent school holidays in the office, colouring in under Jilly's desk, while meetings were held on the round table, next to the white board. At eight, she lay on her tummy with her feet raised, rested the soles…

Anzac Day

Today is Anzac Day. A day where we remember the sacrifice made for us by soldiers in WWI. I become overwhelmed with emotion on this day. I can't think of those young men without tears welling in my eyes, my heart filling with pride, grief and gratitude. I imagine the men, clambering off the boats…