Simple pleasures.

I love to go places in our car.

Just being in the car travelling somewhere makes me feel like I’m moving forward (I promise I wasn’t saying that in Julia Gillard’s nasal tone) I’m immediately at peace with the world and feel lighter and contented to be on the move.

The other evening we went out to get dinner. We had our windows down which we don’t usually do when the air con is on.

‘Let’s leave it down a while.’ I said to Glen. ‘I like the fresh air.’

We turned a corner and a gust of warm air blew in. The scent of jasmine sweet and honey like floated around me.


Simple little moments of pleasure like that make me see the important things.

Which doesn’t include xBoxes, Ipads or anything else what begins with a random letter.

I closed my eyes a moment praying Glen wasn’t spying me from the corner of his eye. The jasmine made me think of when I was a little kid walking home from school, I’d walk past this massive over grown vine of the tiny white flowers every day. I’d stop and smell them, pick a few and pull out the little stamen to suck that little drop of dew from the bottom.

(Probably poisonous?!)

Once I briefly re-visited the past;

I then imagined our future. A fence covered in ivy, another plant important to me, from other times in my childhood. An arch in that fence; covered in beautiful jasmine. The smell would suck you in and you’d just know you were somewhere good with good people waiting to welcome you.

You’d walk up an upcycled brick path which we’d all put our time and love into; To then be enveloped in warm comforting smells wafting from open kitchen windows with lace curtains swirling out into the light breeze, where baked goods were waiting to be tasted.

Watermelons, fat and full. Vividly green and hollow to the knock, would burst open once cracked against the ground. Giggling kids scooping handfuls and jamming the fresh sweet goodness into their little dribbling gobs.

They’d throw the left overs at each other in the heat of the day to be left sticky until rinsed off under the back garden hose. They’d then pluck some flowers, possibly even some jasmine and bring it into the kitchen to be placed in random, and perfectly mis- matched jars and cans.


In a jasmine scented moment while out to get dinner, I could see the things that will one day matter to me. I want to work hard and create our own life. Not through fat bank accounts but building on what we had, have and someday will find comfort in.

I want to grow crepe myrtle tress along our driveway, the patchy bark and bare branches in winter to the confetti like petals, all pretty in pink fluttering around in the evening air. Carpeting the ground in delicate blossoms.

I want chipped old, mossy and mouldy brick paths, that wind and twist, invite and excite. I’d like them to lead everywhere and nowhere. I’d like to have my kids paint a few here and there. Make their make in MY path. I want their kids to one day see the little artworks they created in childhood.

And even add their own.

I want my jasmine plants and my ivy plants.

I want to have watermelon fights in the heat of summer. I want to bake mulberry pies, stew apples and welcome family and friends, and make so many happy memories no matter where we end up.

I want to be a little old lady sitting by a fire with the windows all open so I feel like I’m outside. I want the warm breeze to blow in and engulf me in jasmine scented memories of old, new and almost forgotten.

I can see it all now.

I can see it is all beautiful.

I can see it is totally us.

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