When I awoke Friday to a drizzly cold grey morning, I felt tired, grumpy and a little overwhelmed by my never ending list of things I need to do but rarely get to the end of.
It was supposed to be spring, but I was cold and miserable, there was no time for breakfast before the school run and the house needed a good clean.
I lost patience with my daughter’s experimental dress sense. She is five and a half and went out the door looking like a finger painting set had exploded all over her.
Basically, I was a moaning, whiney, pain in the backside.
We get quite a bit of rain where we live, we see a lot of clouds, but our general air temperatures are middle of the road.
My whole life, I along with most of my country men and women have complained about rainy summers and grey days.
Little did I know that by bed time Friday night, I would be so grateful to live in such a gentle little corner of the Earth.
The fact that my husband and I can give our children a home in a place where the simple geography and elements pose little or no threat to the fabric of our lives is the most fortunate piece of luck I’ve ever known.
It wasn’t by design; we simply made our home within 50 kilometres of where we were both born, so I guess we can thank our parents, our grandparents and so on in our genealogy.
With the rest of the world, I watched open mouthed as the events in Japan unfolded from early Friday morning through the day and deep into the night.
Beyond belief, it seemed worse twenty four hours later with the explosion at the Fukushima nuclear power plant, reports of literally thousands of people unaccounted for and yet more footage of horrors too awful to take in completely.
Watching the walking wounded wander shocked and lost through a barren wasteland that has simply been flattened, it seemed too incredible that this could happen in real life.
People just like us, 30 and 40 somethings with kids, jobs, mortgage, car loans etc.
Hollywood would struggle to create special effects to match the shockwave these images sent rippling across the world.
It’s no surprise that nature is both wonderful and terrible all at once but never has it been more evident to me.
Our quiet life in our little village has become all the more precious.
Tucking my kids into their beds safe and sound tonight the fact that we live in a country where so little happens is something I am so very grateful for.
My thoughts are with all the people in Japan struggling with the tragedy that has afflicted them so cruelly and unfairly.
Their dignity and calm in the face of all that has happened is remarkable.
Hopefully someday soon, they too can sleep safe and sound.