I was born in Phnom Penh, the largest city in Cambodia, and am the youngest of five children. During the time of Pol Pot my father was sent to work at a labour camp. To try and assure his survival he began work very early and finished every task that was set for him. He did not want to be accused of being a ‘soft intellectual’ but to prove that he was a strong, hard &hellip....
There is a purposeful beauty to our scars. Our scars bear witness to our story. What most of us don’t realise is that scar tissue is stronger than the original skin. A gaping wound is not pretty, but a healed scar means that place is stronger than it ever was before. There is a purposeful beauty in our scars. Our scars bear witness to our story. I grew up in Ipswich, a....
Dear Mum, Its 45 years since we last spent Mothers Day together. After you died I found Mothers Day really hard, not Christmas, or even your birthday but Mothers Day. This is the day where I feel your absence most painfully. I know others are able to call someone else mum, whether it’s a friend’s mother, or maybe a mother in law, but that is something that I just couldn’t....
Dear Mum When I was small you were my everything. No other voice or touch could soothe or inspire like yours. No meal tasted as good as what you prepared, no other home was so lovely. You were my mum and because of that I walked tall into the world and always had a safe harbor when the world was unkind. Then I was not so small and my image of you wobbled. Learning to stand &he....
Dear Nanna, As I take the time to think about you I realize that you personified the stereotypical Nanna from my childhood storybooks. Although small in stature you were large in your love and care for your family and those blessed to be your friends. My memories of you Nanna are filled with perfect sponge cakes, endless cups of tea and relaxed conversation. Rarely seen outside....
