carve diem

I used to dislike skiing - every trip felt like a painful and frustrating struggle. I stuck with it for my family, knowing how much they loved the sport and the joy it brought them. But for me, skiing showed how much I’d changed with age. The fearless adventurer I once was, racing down trails and attempting wild stunts, was long gone. I miss that version of myself, the one who wasn’t afraid of falling. Despite my challenges, this winter sport has become a great way for my family to bond and create lasting memories. 

Skiing reminds me that I’m not as young or invincible as I once was. The days of carefree risks have passed, replaced by the responsibilities of family. I miss the reckless freedom of youth, but there’s a deep satisfaction in being needed, even if it means approaching life with more caution.

When I first learned to ski in Queenstown, I was stressed and rigid, overwhelmed by my instructor’s directions. The steep hill ahead felt impossible, and I genuinely thought one wrong move would send me tumbling to my doom.

But this time, something shifted. It wasn’t just what I’d learned - it was that I stopped overthinking and leaned into what felt natural. Drawing on my rollerblading experience, I trusted my body to guide me. Suddenly, I moved with a fluidity I’d never felt before. The fear was still there, but it no longer paralysed me. I wasn’t impulsive, just confident, and for the first time, I felt in control. My turns aren’t perfect, and I’m nowhere near as fast as the skiers speeding past me, but I feel happy and at ease. Skiing has helped me rediscover a part of myself I thought I’d lost.

my girl

The first day of kindergarten feels like just yesterday, yet here I am, watching you walk across the stage in 6th grade to receive an Academic Prize. I can still picture the first time your bright newborn eyes met mine - I knew then, with a quiet certainty, that you were bound to become someone extraordinary. Now, here you are, in your final year of primary school, making us all so proud, Amelia! You are everything I dreamed of being at your age, my special girl. 

1 degree hotter

When my peers learn that I’m pursuing a Master’s degree, they often say, “I can’t imagine studying now; my mind has retired at this age.” For me, though, it’s the opposite - I’ve never been more intellectually engaged in my life.  It’s as if my brain didn’t fully mature until I reached my thirties, or perhaps I’m just less distracted than I was in my teens and twenties. Back then, I remember feeling overwhelmed with work, juggling my social life, fretting about the future, and searching for a husband while also trying to find myself, which made studying feel impossible.

I remember RD asking me when we first met what I’d do if I didn’t have to worry about finances, and I told him I’d study. Who would have thought he’d be the one to make that dream a reality?

fortnight

Taylor Swift’s double album defied expectations, surprising fans who anticipated a deep dive into her six-year-long relationship. Instead, Taylor chose to explore a whirlwind romance that lasted merely a fortnight. While some fail to understand, I see a profound truth in her focus. Fleeting relationships, though brief, often leave a lasting impact precisely because they lack closure. There’s a particular intensity in the abrupt end of something that feels like it’s just beginning - it retains a sense of perpetual newness, never fully realised, and leaves behind a haunting sense of unfinished business.

In contrast, long-term commitments, which have weathered birthdays, holidays, and countless shared milestones, allow for a gradual detachment. These partnerships often end with a slow fade rather than a sudden stop, giving both parties time to adjust and process the separation. But the short-lived romance? It cuts off before it even seems real, leaving a trail of what-ifs and might-have-beens. 

This stark juxtaposition in Taylor’s latest tracks speaks volumes about the complexity of human emotions and connections, emphasising how deeply we can feel for someone who has barely grazed the surface of our lives compared to another who has been firmly entrenched in it.

the game

Playing the Hermès game is like searching for a unicorn in a blizzard of dollar bills - exciting, expensive, and perhaps mythical! The key to maintaining my sanity in this luxe labyrinth hinges on the trusting relationship I've built with my Sales Associate. Dealing with my SA can sometimes feel like I'm on a seesaw, constantly balancing between not seeming too desperate and the overwhelming desire to plead for my wish list items. I invest both heart and wallet, all the while wondering if she actually likes me or if I'm just another commission to her.

I'm curious about where I stand on her list of clients but try to keep my composure. Yet, this interaction isn't a straightforward exchange. No specific amount of spending guarantees that coveted offer; it’s not a conditional transaction where more money equals more certainty. I’ve learned that my purchasing decisions must come from a place of genuine love for the items, not as tactical moves to secure a quota bag.

The essence of this pursuit centers on enjoying the journey itself, without fixating on the potential rewards. Adopting this mindset has not only made my experience more authentic but has also helped me manage expectations and lessen the sting of any disappointments.

I remember the thrill of acquiring my first bag, akin to the gleeful euphoria when my high school crush finally reciprocated my feelings. Each visit to the boutique and every conversation with my SA brought me closer to that point. The sensation of walking into the store, knowing I was about to receive what I had been waiting for, was truly special.

After receiving the Mini Kelly in October, I casually (but strategically) dropped hints a few months later about desiring another quota bag. My SA made no promises, but on my birthday, she surprised me with a stunning Birkin. Perhaps I am her favourite after all! The situation was both serious and silly. It felt strange that something as materialistic and superficial as this could bring me so much joy. The excitement was so intense, it chased away my hunger and sleep, similar to the jittery anticipation before a first date. It was a moment filled with anticipation, where every flutter of butterflies in my stomach matched the rustle of tissue paper unveiling the pinnacle of artistry.

miss you forever

The ache of missing someone can last forever, regardless of whether you ever see them again. As time relentlessly forges ahead, our cherished memories remain vivid, a mix of laughter and tears that paint the inner walls of my heart.

Your laughter still finds a way to echo in the stillness, your quirky insights resonate in moments of indecision, and your absence is deeply felt at every personal achievement you’re not here to celebrate. Seeing something that I know would have made you laugh, or recalling our inside jokes, still brings a smile to my face amidst the sadness. Yet, our friendship wasn’t without its blemishes - misunderstandings and disagreements occasionally clouded our sunny days, leaving some words unsaid, some apologies never exchanged.

Despite the gratitude for the bond we shared, there lies a longing for one more chance to make things right, for one more shared joke to dissolve the lingering tensions, for one more heart-to-heart to bridge the gaps. As the world keeps spinning, the essence of our imperfect friendship continues as a treasured keepsake, its beauty untarnished by time.

the graduate

Despite a few hiccups, I have now successfully attained my business degree, a journey that extended far beyond its intended duration. Life presented me with a myriad of distractions and reasons to defer my studies: teenage infatuation and adolescent turmoil, heartaches and heartbreaks, work and leisure, marriage and motherhood, pandemic and lockdown. Yet, the true culprit was perpetual procrastination. The excitement of academia gradually gave way to the monotony of adulthood, and my tertiary education seemed to lack a clear purpose, feeling more like a detached obligation.

A heartfelt conversation with my eldest daughter changed everything; her pride in me completing my degree reignited the dormant flames of ambition. Suddenly, excuses crumbled and motivation surged. It transformed a scholarly duty into a promise to my first born and, in a way, to myself.

My father’s efforts to inspire my teenage study habits left him with a head of grey hair, a poignant testament to the challenges faced. My husband’s encouragement and support turned what was once a burdensome learning regimen into a shared accomplishment.

With my graduation ceremony set for May, and no cap-and-gown photo to brag about, here’s a 2004 throwback: I’m at my friend’s graduation - the very year I was supposed to complete my degree before taking a two-decade detour. Little did I know, this photo would come in handy someday.

This experience proves that it’s never too late to learn and grow, and you can always make your parents and children proud, regardless of your age.