We’ve just spent almost a week up in the Snowy Mountains with my family. I am feeling so lucky to have been able to do this with absolutely everyone in our family there (except for my sisters boyfriend, sadly). I am currently in disbelief as I can not accept that I can not just laze around a large, breezy house all day with people I love, go for walks, explore caves and swim all together in the pool in the bush. It was a luxury, but somehow it feels more like reality to me.
Family holidays are something we only began after I got married and so in a way they represent to me the link to life as a sibling and child, rather than as a spouse or mum. It is almost a welcome reprieve. A chance to step back, be thankful for all the parts of this connected life – as no one is an island, to see life from both sides of the fence, to realise what it is I want to give my children, to reconcile all areas. It merely is what it is and I am thankful that time spent with my family is always fun, sometimes uncomfortable and ever familiar. Familiarity is a wonderful thing.
I once heard, I think it was from a neighbour actually, something that made me appreciate my siblings all over again. It was that, of everyone you are ever in contact with in your life it is your siblings that will know you the longest. They (sometimes) know you from your birth to your death, or at the very least from your childhood to their death. They are the ones with whom your memories are bonded, irrevocably and delightfully, in that rosy glow of childhood past.
When I see my Nonna (who is in her eighties) talk to her brother (who is in his nineties) and her sisters (all in their eighties) I appreciate it all anew. She is in Australia and they are in Italy, but it is still absolutely vital to her that they all remain in contact, perhaps even more important as they stretch toward their centenaries.
I will post photos of this little holiday soon. It was quite a wonderful one in all its experiences.