...l'essential est invisible pour les yeux.

she decided to free herself, dance into the wind, create a new language. And birds fluttered around her, writing "yes" in the sky

[koukla-chou]

Letters to Coco

September 2021 Dear Coco. I feel guilty already that you’re twelve years old and I’m only just beginning to write to you, but when you’re there in the flesh in front of me every day it doesn’t occur that you will one day be gone. You’re not gone, by the way. But with the promise of new life, one thing is certain – that one day that life will end. Seems sombre, yes. But I’m being proactive…

Letters to Coco

[koukla-chou]

Springtime was late. It’s true that the days were becoming increasingly sunnier, though the mornings were still bitterly cold with frost on the greenery and mist in the air. The scent that usually arrived on a curling breeze, an assurance that summer would present itself soon, was behind schedule. That lovely sensation that tells of warmth, the one that arrives to conclude the winter, was absent, with the middle of the day not brave enough to broach twenty degrees. The sun attempted to remind residents of its importance with a brief and welcome midday sting, but the people remained in woollen socks and warm cardigans despite October’s emergence. With it, a strong wind was blowing at least every few days – nature’s way of striving to push the winter out. Though it was cold, some members of the natural world were cooperating with the Weather Curriculum. Though it remained to be a very humanist construction, the birds living in the trees surrounding Penny’s home and suburb had sensed fleeting moments of change, and so had begun to schedule and action their own adjustments in preparation for warmer times. This was duly noted by Penny, as she braved her thrice weekly morning walk and was attacked by territorial magpie-larks out to protect their nests from potential threats. Penny knew she was a target because the same process happened on every occasion. She stood at the front of her cottage home, looking left and right for assailants in the trees, poised on their branches doing surveillance of the street. Often, Penny would carry out this portion of preparation with her coffee in hand, deciding as she sipped, whether turning left or right would be the safer option. She knew that either way, the vicious little birds would strike – it was just that one way was sometimes less inhabited than the other. That, or she might be able to time her walk so that one of the adults was out hunting, so that at least one family would be down an aggressor. The result was mostly the same each time. Penny would anticipate an attack by adding superfluous amounts of hairspray before she left her home, knowing that it was going to be pulled out of the meticulously crafted pony tail by the immoral, unwarranted and continued assault of the little birds. Penny eyed them assertively as she took calmly to the street. She knew full well that despite their innocuous appearance; their pencil thin legs and slender bodies, they were really very menacing. She thought of Janet, a woman from work who had the audacity to cross the rose garden on a journey from one building to another, and had been ambushed, with one of the magpie-larks pecking her right in the eyeball. She had to go to the hospital to have ‘beak matter’ removed from her eye. Penny’s insides became agitated at the thought of ‘beak matter.’ She had felt both revulsion and curiosity for the details of this phenomena, but when she saw Janet across the staff room at lunchtime, she did not have the heart to ask for the finer points of her experience. Despite the early hour, Penny’s memory of what happened to Janet prompted her to move her prescription sunglasses from her head to her face, to avoid such an occurrence for herself. She braced herself for the onslaught she knew was unavoidable, fastening the clips of her cap under her thick pony tail and releasing a slow exhale as she moved towards the front of the house. Penny turned to her right outside the picket-gate, and was not three metres from her starting position when the avian predators began their attack. At first, they swooped threateningly without making contact, forewarning her to flee their turf. Penny walked on, briskly but without hurrying, in an attempt to send them back a message – a signal that she would not yield to their aggression. Her hands remained at her sides as she marched, fists balled in determination – she refused to swat their swooping away. The barrage continued increasing in intensity as the birds registered their trespasser’s folly and began to properly attack. Penny’s hair was gr...

[koukla-chou]

Elf

Tiny black boots affixed to candy cane legs Rosy cheeks fat with elfin collagen A Santa hat, incline slightly off centre A blend of plastic and polyester Yet Enkindled by the childlike fervour and dedication Of the parents Each Christmas arrives With the promise of Magic, and The Elf – subsists on enchantment The adult is fuelled By the awe Of the child When each morning it becomes…

[koukla-chou]

There’s a special moment that traverses the consciousness only once per week, when one’s Saturday is unencumbered with trivialities and Duty in various disguises. When one has a Saturday that is essentially free of obligations set by external forces, or even intrinsic forces, really, so that no obstacle is there to stain the freedom of 16 or so hours allowed, and with that time, one can then decide to fulfil so many minutes in whatever fashion one so desires, there arrives a special moment. It alights when the caffeine drunk prior to 8am attaches itself to the dopamine receptors floating around within the cerebral vicinity, and an infusion of happiness is injected into the consciousness with the realisation that the entire day is at one’s disposal, to play out exactly as one wishes. At this point, the daylight hours attributed to such a day seem just short of endless, and one may even go about morning jobs with a certain sense of laissez-faire, in the mid-section of the mind knowing that the time is there and passing, but ever so slowly. Habitually, it is then at the precise moment that one decides to impregnate the day that was so blissfully empty, with some expedition, which alters the state of all things. Once the decision is decided upon, time lapses at a speed as yet unprecedented on this day, the hours disappear and before one realises, the freedom of a free Saturday has been all but eroded, seconds are passing as per every other day, the time has been tainted by a task and taken away, and one waits in hope for another chance, on another day, in the future.

[koukla-chou]

I have a fairy godmother. Her magic is revealed when I leave the house in a hurry, When all of the things accumulate, and the time lapses too quickly, and there’s always a deadline looming expectantly nearer; the thin hands of a cheap clock an assault on my mind. And the standards I once held rigid, identifying me as This and That, to myself and me alone Are not only lowered, but have plummeted to the depths of the un-emptied bin. Dishes in the sink from their breakfast, their clothes on the floor in the wrong room, beds as ruffled as their morning hair Wet washing in the machine, its cry for release a harbinger of my inability to manage it all. Dogs unkempt; a groom overdue My coffee tepid – warm enough to drink, out of desperation But not to enjoy And the repeated reminders going out to the children That I need their help to get us out of the house Go un-adhered to, And rightly so Because why shouldn’t they be lost in play, oblivious to the grown up structures of start times And neatly folded towels, Breathe out slowly once on the road, My resistance to the way things are Has diminished, and I resolve to Fix Everything Later. Alas! the day slides too quickly by, The strange world of minutes and seconds and hours framing the minutiae of a day, quadrants of time made achievable and pushing each of us ever forward, Un-relenting and increasing in speed at the moments we desire least, when there are too many Important Jobs To Do, but no bridge to reach such a destination. I have a fairy godmother. Her magic wand is dexterous; functional And only some will understand, the ways she aids my existence So that my mental health remains intact Is Invaluable When I walk in from work and see The sink is empty, and clean Dishwasher unpacked, re-stacked Benches wiped Beds made, toys tidied Bits and pieces collated, skilfully piled somewhere unobtrusive But not pretentiously And with no judgement. Cushions fluffed and straightened, throw not thrown but tucked Washing dry, folded and stacked, ready to be returned to its owners. Often, I come home to toilets cleaned, floors mopped And I wonder How Long This Magic will last. I have a fairy godmother She does not expect a thing She’s humble beyond belief, Her fairy dust is golden And it’s within these gratitude filled words That I want to say Thank you

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[koukla-chou]

Right before take off My own mortality moves in, taking a seat on my chest regrets fill my mind What if this is it? A small strip of material around my waist Tethering me to a seat 40 thousand feet up this buckle won’t Save me Flashes of their lives without me My eyes are choking my vision as I realise Both The validity and the stupidity of this feeling But The love lines are strong One time through the air won’t sever this bond yet already in my mind the feel of small bodies Wanting not to forget Skin like velvet; one four years old with a demeanour beyond him The other nearly seven, an angel on earth in the form of a child What luck, to hold them every single day! Though once this far away continuous moments are spent trying to channel their presence and Looking out to the cloudy blue beyond and the wing of this Giant bird wobbles, my anxiety My existence alongside it poses a question mark Survival? And I trust in the universe And the men in the cockpit The engineers of my continuity today, Please

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[koukla-chou]

He’s nervous Stops his car in the middle of the road Where do I go for the Breath Work? Park your car and I’ll lead the way He’s surprised at the tone of voice Kindness – an unusual response. Am I the first to arrive? His concerns of such things make obvious his hesitations, His anticipation How many are coming? The questions fall out of him The need for certainty clear. He looks heavy in his body. What keeps you busy, Tony? I’ve worked with prisoners all my life. His long lashes flutter, his brown eyes holding more than colour. Can this practice cure disease? He’s ill at ease, there is discomfort inside him and in this space. It’s possible, Tony Though hold onto nothing as you enter And I hope you find What you are looking for.

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[koukla-chou]

The Wake Up Call

The last six months has been laced with the buzz of a low grade stress. In the pursuit of health, my husband wanted to test his body, to check on its defences and to get a picture of its internal functionality, after 39 years of an interesting life. Most of the results came back with nothing to worry about, except one. If you have ever undergone something like this, or even something like this…

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[koukla-chou]

A Short Prompt.

What is something most people don’t understand? Most people do not understand the proper way to use an apostrophe. Where the tiny airborne comma is placed on a page is confounding to many speakers of the English language, with perpetual confusion remaining intact from one generation to the next, blunders in writing ignored or unnoticed as young scribes commit to the pen in error, whether…

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[koukla-chou]

What matters most to you?

When I think about thinking about what matters most to me, the automated word my brain spits into consciousness is ‘family.’ Of course family matters most to me, but what does that mean if I break it down further? I feel most whole, most happy, when I am with my children. When my six year old writes me a Mother’s Day card two months past Mother’s Day, saying his favourite day of the week is…

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[koukla-chou]

Nothing is Funny Anymore.

Once you’ve grown up, nothing is funny anymore. Every day existence has not the sweet mist of humour, as was the case in high school days. Smiles are less prominent than stern faces, especially those facing computer screens, rapid fingers typing, eyes darting forward and back. The responsibilities of an Important Life are too essential to pass by – there is little time, once taken care of, for…

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[koukla-chou]

Flight

The enormity of the ocean The fluffy froth of waves How tiny a plane full of people seem Stretches of buildings diminished to pixels Trees for ever and ever and ever The sun warming everything within reach And the risk Of life above solid ground And trust In other humans And hope That everything will be Okay

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[koukla-chou]

WEEDS - a submission.

WEEDS – a submission.

1 We have a tendency to rip them out. Their insurgent growth pervades our persistent desire to remain in control, of something, anything in this world, this world that continues to spin on its axis, whilst the heads of its inhabitants are spinning unchecked. Boundless opportunity with no constraint, so much so that we’re striving for a hold on a thing that grows without aid, in soil or sand…

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[koukla-chou]

An Important Reminder: on loving your kids.

An Important Reminder: on loving your kids.

I write this to the chorus of mama, I love you by The Spice Girls and I am overwhelmed by feelings of gratitude for my life. Today I’ve had both of my boys home because one is coughing like a baby seal and the other hasn’t stopped since four am, so they’re not exactly a picture of health. But it doesn’t matter, because this morning I walked into the living room and they were sitting together on…

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[koukla-chou]

“Parenthood”

I was awoken at 1:52am to the sound of my earbuds dying. I had fallen asleep during my meditation at 10pm and slept, for once, soundly, until that annoying little noise disturbed my slumber. At 3am my sleep is broken again, this time by the distressed cries of my toddler: “Mama! Mama!” Lurching down the hallway, I spend five minutes resettling him. Then, toilet. Then, bed. Then, 4am. The toddler…

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[koukla-chou]

Insert Brain Explosion Emoji Here.

Insert Brain Explosion Emoji Here.

In all we’ve learnt over the past two and a half years, and my has there been much, my focus has pin pointed in recent times to one particular thing which I’m going to tell you shortly. Vaccination has been a pretty standard part in the raising of a child since it became a thing back in the 1700s, according to Google. I’m not going to go into the role it has played, the successes or failures it…

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[koukla-chou]

Yesterday, a Prado rolled down the gravel driveway which was white, originally, but looked as though it had been sprayed with red dirt. It had a trailer attached, and inside were three little goats. I was putting the little boy down for his nap when I heard my older child gasp and then obnoxiously open the bedroom door. “The GOATS!” he whispered loudly. Naturally I told him to shush and close…

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