all things tend towards chaos

I am back, the garden has greeted me with an explosion of colours, I missed the spring abundance of lilac and tulips and wisteria, but I am not complaining. Despite the heat. In the very early morning, I am listening to the familiar bird song, wondering when the tūī and the pīwakawaka will join in. The journey home was fabulous. I was treated like royalty by two airlines, with wheelchairs waiting for me whenever needed, polite porters pushing me past security queues and into cosy lounging areas with trays of food selections to nibble. 

One last bit of New Zealand that has amazed me. The grandchild goes to primaray school, to hihi 4, as all classes are named after native birds. In the morning, the class stands together for the karakia, an incantation to welcome the day and what lies before them. There are many karakia in use, to start the day, a meeting, a journey, to come together, arrive home and so on.

This is the one that gets sung every morning by a boisterous group of seven year olds:

Whakataka te hau ki te uru
Whakataka te hau ki te tonga
Kia mākinakina ki uta
Kia mātaratara ki tai
E hī ake ana te atakura
He tio, he huka, he hau hū
Tīhei mauri ora! 

translated:

Cease the winds from the west
Cease the winds from the south
Let the breeze blow over the land
Let the breeze blow over the ocean
Let the red-tipped dawn come with a sharpened air.
A touch of frost, a promise of a glorious day.

 

I have a recording of the grandchild singing it but that's private, so here is a version from the internet, same words, same melody. 

  

In my dreams, I am falling backwards, down the stairs, out of the plane, tumbling, tumbling, through the air, endlessly.  God, I hope this is just jetlag and that it will pass eventually. But I am grateful for nights of deep sleep, evenings when I try to stay awake watching movies with R (One Battle After Ânother was a hit for both of us) every distracting phone call, all the daily rituals I can manage to remain somewhat patient, another eight days to the next orthopedic follow-up, and so on. In reality, behind my jolly calm facade, I am scared. Every tinge of pain, be it brief or dull or sharp, never - thankfully - constant, makes me gag with fear. This is all new territory, I have taken mobility for granted. How could I.

I look around, it feels unreal to even imagine that I have been away for four months.  

When I feel myself getting too smug, when I start counting all my blessings, I start to think about all the things that could go wrong. I remember that I have to die someday. Everything falls apart. All things tend towards chaos. I close my eyes against the mad torrent of panic. This is ok, I think. This is life, this is life, this is how it's meant to be.

Donal Ryan