On missing and birthdays and pretty night skies.

This is the view from my kitchen window tonight. While I don't mind mornings, I think I've always loved the early evenings the best. The time when the light goes all pink on the hills out there and the baby's in bed after having had a shower - her new favourite thing and I wish you could see her using the Makaton sign for it and saying "OW-er" - and Ruby's had her meds and her teeth cleaned and is tucked up and Felix is hanging out winding down and the animals are all in. And the kitchen's all tidied up except for those filthy windows which Sherby likes to clean in all his spare time.

When I was younger I used to sit out on the back steps with my dad and we'd check out the sunsets, we're partial to a good sunset he and I. And they were taken to another level in the spectacular stakes when I lived in the Kimberley. But living here they're just as pretty and it still amazes me that those hills you can see out there through the window go the same colours as the Kimberley ranges, even though we're on the other side of the country.

There's something about this time of night though and I think it's that feeling of melancholy it brings, to me anyway. I'm sad tonight. Was just telling Sherby how much I miss Daisy at this time of year. I can't help but remember how very sick she was exactly four years ago now, so sick that for two nights I stayed awake with her thinking that she was dying right before my very eyes and telling her to keep breathing, at least until her Pa came home. And so she did. And she should be at school right now, just starting Year 1. I wish she was at school right now, so badly. It's really hard to see other little girls her age. Last year I got lots of work with Kindergarten and I remember one little girl asking me to put her hair up into her little ponytail because it had fallen out and she couldn't do it by herself. And this might sound creepy and I don't mean it to but in that moment, touching that little one's hair made me nearly cry because it reminded me so much of how Daisy's hair felt. It wasn't the same colour but the softness was exactly the same. That little act upset me for ages afterward and it's such a hard thing to talk about because you don't want to upset anyone else by mentioning stuff like that too often. But it's hard to forget and I don't want to anyway. I know I'll never forget how soft Daisy's precious hair was, it's been imprinted right into my hands and my soul.

And now it's February and it's Ruby Doo's birthday month. And if you know me or have been reading this blog you'll be tired of me saying, where has the time gone? Am not sure if it's part of the grieving process but time is not staying still long enough for me to catch up. She's turning fourteen. It can't be true. And there'll be another blog post all about that. I've booked her a hospital appointment on her birthday which she will be seriously thrilled about, hospital visits being one of her all time favourite things, God love her. Haven't told her though that her birthday's coming up just yet, which makes me sound like a mean mother. It's just that she knew that Christmas was coming because of all the advertising and was so excited about it that she'd hover around my bed at 5.30am each morning for what seemed like weeks, yelling Birthday! in my ear - birthday being one of her few words which she uses for all celebrations, which is very cute - but then she'd head in to wake up the baby while she was at it. And after days of this behaviour, no one felt much like celebrating anything. So I think if I tell her her birthday is on it's way she might peak too early. Will be nice to just surprise her maybe. Gorgeous girl.

It's a rambling old post this one, thanks for reading till the end. I think the sadness comes from being tired too, the start of a school year is exhausting, at least for my little people and I. All these new bus and respite and sport training times we need to get our heads around, and who's going where and when. I think we all need another holiday. Who's with me?