Something which I have realised as we move closer to the event of our running away from home and that is giving up all those lovely well known and age old rituals of central family living. Yep… those things that you barely notice at times but which are markers of a family group in practice.
When hubby and I left home on our marriage, after we had returned from our honeymoon all those decades ago, gathering up our goods and chattels we headed north to what was to become home central for our new and growing family.
One of the first things we did once settled was organize the delivery of the Sunday paper. In this ritual we established our intent to nest. This practice of course was way back in the dark ages according to the kids, as was the delivery of the daily bread and milk but those ritual niceties have since fallen by the wayside over the years in the name of progress. Now-aday’s you are the one who delivers the monies to the shop and exchange it for milk and bread… the emphasis no longer on service but on sales.
The delivery of the Sunday paper however lives on in perpetuity thanks to the local service of our newsagent and it has almost become the mark of the family home in operation.This is a ritual which has followed me throughout my life, even as a child. Once the growing vegemiters… our kidlets, would fight over those sections of the Sunday paper they enjoyed the most. The thing was dissected and divided and even our Grandies who came much later in time would look out the comic section and others of their favourites when our own kids had grown beyond those delightful entertainments.
Things now are on the change again. This week I made my final trek around to the newsagents and cancelled the paper delivery. I can’t explain the sadness I felt in drawing to a close this faithful service after some 40 years.
It’s these little things that I am beginning to notice vanish as we prepare to ‘make tracks’. Changes that are a portend to imminent major change in our lives. Little things, like hubby not getting up at the crack of dawn to head out in earning the daily bread even if it was my job to toast it. It is taking some adjustment from both of us, this change in our daily habits. It didn’t seem so long ago that I was marshalling the brats for school and heading out myself to help earn that daily family crust.
We’re coping well, we have the dreams to feed our imaginations, the promise of adventure and we are even biting at the bit to begin but first… family and friends are gathering to become part of our journey if only to bid us a bon-voyage.
Bon-voyage… what the hell is that really? Sometimes it feels like a last hurrah as we prepare to head off into the wide blue yonder… or red yonder depending on the direction. But first our friends will gather for that last hurrah as we plan to sit around the backyard oven (another story) and dine out on pizza and other roasted delights.
I’m looking forward to this last ritual, as you would look forward to a rebirth or new start. It is the anticipation mixed with a measure of wariness, the wonder of what the future may hold and the promise of adventure. As the small rituals fall away one by one life is gunna change and I can’t help but be excited by the idea. But it is also the loss of those small precious rituals which quieten me, I will miss them… they don’t deliver the Sunday papers when you are roaming the countryside and it will be a odd concession to our new life.
Instead we will be looking for the stories in the tales the land can tell us, rather than the weekly Sunday Newsheet… a new ritual for us. We will of course pick up the odd newspaper here and there, but mostly current news will come via the precious radio or the occasional TV signal or Internet link. I gave up telly some time ago, tired of the constant and increasing drone of the commercials in the “buy me, buy me, buy me” parade and my life has been richer for it I might add. Aus. is known for its Storylines or Songlines… tales of Gondwanian Dreamtime creatures who moulded the land and I plan on discovering as many as I can.
Touching on theses stories has been a special pleasure in my novels. You can read about them on The Dreaming pages. Join me in my journey by subscribing to these posts by klicking the little ‘Follow’ button at the top of the page … catchya around the edges … enjoy
To read of our other journeys through the countryside you can find out more in the ‘Around the Campfire Series’ of travelogues. Available in e-book and print.
Around the Campfire Series
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- My Poem ‘Ritual’ (poetofthesphere.com)
Jan Hawkins Author 