Feathers appear when ANGELS are near (A story about a lady cleaning my room)

I was sitting and writing in my hotel room, watching the bluest sea go up and down like digital musical notes while a lady who looked just like my late mother went about her business of cleaning my room.

 

I kept changing my position slightly in order to stare at her, wondering each time if she noticed. I was feeling naughty, bad, sad and weird all at the same time. It’s hard to explain.

 

I finally let up the espionage to take a walk along the beach.  She called back at me “Lady, you dropped something”.  It was a feather which I quickly picked up in a big red blush!

 

It was then that I felt this immense sense of Gratitude.

Gratitude for her presence,

Gratitude for the lesson,

Gratitude for way the dice landed placing me in a position to live the life I do,

Gratitude also for the luxury of being able to travel, write and tell YOU about the things that touch my heart.

 

I dreamed of days like this, I must tell you.

Days of random magic,

heart swells,

ocean air,

pink sunsets,

…and days when the old saying “feathers appear when angels are near” rings beautifully true.

 

I wish YOU days of “magic” too.

 

© Aluta continua, as they say.  A Heart Full of Stories, 2017

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Traffic Light Lady (A story about running your own race) – To the Trompies “MADIBUSENG” soundtrack

Someone I barely know asked me how I find the energy to chase my dreams with such gusto?  She continued by stating, quite matter of factly, that I seem to be one of those people to whom great opportunities “just come” and the lovely lady ended off by saying that she also noticed that I didn’t really have to “work very hard” to get to the finish line, often beating the ones who “slave away 9 to 5”.  

 

She touched my shoulder and smiled warmly. For impact.

 

I did not respond. I could not.  Words failed me.

 

Now, it doesn’t take a PhD student to understand why this was so problematic that it actually left ME speechless.  I think it may have something to do with the tone.  The tone of the 3 “facts” wrapped up as compliments, when in fact they were not.

 

I went through them in my head again:

1. Accusation 1:  I am the one chasing with gusto (implying that I am workaholic running uphill at high speed). So, a GREEN light sort of person?
2. Accusation 2:  Things just come (implying that I am in neutral, just waiting). So, an ORANGE light kind of person?
3. Accusation 3:  I don’t have to work very hard (implying that I pretty much rely on my fake boobs to bring in the moola). So, a RED light kind of person? – Every pun intended!

 

And, here’s the part where the penny is supposed to drop and I am supposed to deliver some profound sermon, dispelling the accusations and leaving the daft woman looking dafter. But no.  I fancy a different approach….

 

I’ve decided that the next time I see her, I will play the famous Trompies Song “Madibuseng” featuring the late and very great Lebo Mathosa (“Sometimes you red-y, sometimes you green-y, sometimes you orange-y”)  in my head and say:

1. “Good morning, can’t talk, gotta run…to Paris for my croissants and then back to Dubai for a meeting with Oprah and finally back to a TED Talk in Vegas. Gosh, when will I eat?” (The colour GREEN should come to your mind right about now)
2. I will continue “Oh wait! Sorry, I think I will just go back to bed and meditate. You know? We can have anything we want if we just believeeeeeee (and do “ohm” with my hands)” (You feeling organgy yet?)
3. Acting all excited I will then add, “No, no, actually, let me call my butler. I sooooo need a wax (roll eyes), a spray tan, my extensions fixed, eyelashes lifted but first…let me pop this pill. You know? It puts you in a coma so you don’t have to be awake during the process” (at which point I can put a red Smartie in my mouth).

 

Crap man! Who am I kidding?

 

While I do love that Trompies song very much, I won’t have timeeeeeeee to disarm the woman because I will be so busy driving to work on a tank with a flashing orange fuel guage to finish a PowerPoint presentation in order to meet a deadline in order to meet my KPI’s, hoping to get a bonus while touching up my grey hair with mascara and wondering how to turn leftover KFC into Chicken A La King for a family dinner!  You know? I will be busy chasing, working, running, hustling, doubting, fixing, negotiating like the rest of the world…..

 

So, before I let old Chairman of the Peanut Gallery get to me, best I remember that what other people think of us, is actually none of our business.  © A Heart Full of Stories, 2016

 

Aluta continua, as they say. The road to learning to run our own race and let others run theirs is longer for some than others.  I wish you a short one, friends.

 

 

COPYRIGHT: 

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

 

 

Think Before You Speak

We were talking about, pregnancy, babies, stretch marks and labour. Stories were flying thick and fast. I had lots to say!

 

In a moment of sheer excitement, I turned to the woman sitting next to me and said “Right?! Did you also suffer from morning sickness with your two?! Blahhh”

 

She laughed. I cringed.

She laughed some more. I cringed some more.

 

I had known her for many years. I knew her kids too.  I knew that they were adopted. I knew the whole beautiful story of how that came to be.

 

You can only imagine my embarrassment when I realised I had asked her how it felt to have been pregnant with them!

She handled it graciously.  She said that she loved the way my heart leads me. (She found it endearing that I didn’t see them as her “adoptive” kids and that I made no distinction in my heart between her and the other moms around the table).

 

I quite liked that description.  So, I went along with it.   I walked away from there telling myself that I was all-heart (and only half blonde).

 

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2016

 

P.S. Do allow me to wish you well as you try and think before you speak.  Aluta continua, as they say. The road is still long for me….

 

 

Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

 

Something “Fishy”

I was eating a prawn and avocado salad at 9am on a Friday morning while driving.

 

I rarely eat salad. I NEVER eat salad in the morning. I should have known it was going to be a strange day.

 

My hair was dirty and the salon could not take me for a wash at 09h30. I was annoyed.  I needed to look decent for an event I was going to at 11h00. Ah, a turban!  Yes, my trusty old turban was about to become Cinderella, going from a lame old piece of fabric, to a stylish accessory in a blink.

 

I had a plan:

1. Finish the salad without getting prawn on my clothes (God knows that fishy smell is not for everyone)
2. Tie the turban
3. Add some red lips

 

Then, just out of the damn blue, there was something on my leg. I was convinced that it was a piece of cotton from my long dress.  Those hems come apart quickly if you step on them too much.

 

My plan was to stop at the next traffic light to tear the piece of cotton off the dress. But, yes, you guessed it, the traffic lights were all green. So, I kept going.

 

About twelve seconds later, the car in front of me braked suddenly. I dropped a piece of prawn and in my attempt to catch it, I brushed the spider. A spider! Yes, there was a spider acting like a piece of cotton on my leg. Psycho!

 

I peeked inside my car window while I stood next to it, waiting for my Uber. My sense was that I took a risk locking the prawn all alone in the car with the spider, but what else was I supposed to do?

 

Naturally, my husband said that there was no black widow in the car when he arrived to collect it in the evening.  The only thing he said that made some sense was, “something smells fishy”.  

 

Men!

© A Heart Full of Stories, 2015

 

(P.S. As you can see, the turban and red lips worked out well.  Pity about that last prawn!”)

 

COPYRIGHT:  Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given to Lee-Ann Mayimele and www.aheartfullofstories.wordpress.com with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.