38 18 7 33 37 20 40

These were the winning numbers for the lotto ticket I bought. Of the seven numbers, I had four, which entitled me to the princely sum of $20.80, which I spent on groceries for tonight's dinner.

PJ went out, so it was just Z and I sitting out on the deck eating the winnings, talking about all the wonderful comments people left to say why they are happy to be alive.

"Today I am happy to be alive because I saw a tree reflected in a heart-shaped puddle," I announced.

"I'll be the tree and you can be the puddle that holds it," Z said.

And so I was.

The P's Knees

It's been nearly a month since PJ cut his leg with his chainsaw. It has been healing beautifully, though on Sunday evening when Z and I returned from Melbourne, he could barely walk. His kneecap was all swollen and inflamed.

He had to spend last night in the local hospital where they fed him antibiotics intravenously. At dinnertime, Z and I brought in a thermos of chicken soup and an apple cake, which Z decorated with birthday candles. It's not PJ's birthday for another couple of months, but I don't think he cared.

The Time Machine

Someone left this time machine near our house yesterday. I found it this morning as I headed into the bush for my walk. All day I have been thinking about it and what year I am going to visit.

Am I going to go back to before I was born so I can meet my father's father, whom I never met?

Am I going to go back to the night Z was born so I can peer through the window and see what his mum's experience was like?

Am I going to go back to the year my mum cut her finger with a chainsaw so I can call her to say be extra careful that day?

Will I go forward to the next time I see my sister Abby, because I miss her like crazy?

Will I go forward ten years to see what state the world is in?

Or will I stay right where I am, because I'm happy?

16 Stitches

For the squeamish amongst you, I had you in mind when I selected this photo. The others I took showed in far greater detail just how far the chainsaw had chewed into PJ's leg.

I got the call yesterday morning. "Don't worry, everything's fine, but will you jump on your bike and meet me at the hospital as soon as you can? I've cut my leg with the chainsaw."

His voice was calm as he spoke. The only part that worried me was that he had said, "Don't worry," and "Everything's fine."

I felt fine as I got dressed and left the house but my legs were all wobbles as I pedalled up the hill. And when I couldn't see the road for my tears I decided to get some help. I flagged down a ute and asked the driver to please take my bike and I to the hospital, which he kindly did.

It was a long day of two hospitals, a doctor's clinic, sixteen sutures and lots of reading in waiting rooms.

Now when I say that I love PJ inside and out you'll know I'm serious, as now I've seen his interior.

Contiguous

This happened a year ago to the day. We had moved into our house only six weeks earlier. These are the photos and words I emailed around to friends and family.

Neighbour's van. Handbrake failed. No one hurt. 

He's a builder and is doing the repair work himself. He was devastated and very shaken when it first happened.

The van took the electricity box off the house so we had no power all day.

PJ and I were under the house putting some insulation under the floor. We heard a crash when it went through the neighbour's fence and then saw it go up the ramp.

Crazy!! But no one was hurt, so that's good.

What a day!!

xx

How Did it Happen?

From here.

Men Standing Around

The rear of the bus was stuck on the road. The incline of the driveway has caused many a vehicle to scrape its undercarriage or get jammed. I know this because the driveway is 100 metres from our house.

PJ, Z and I walked up to the end of our street and watched.

Off the Rails

Before we trained to Melbourne this morning, PJ and I went to Z's school where we met with his mum and three of his teachers to discuss Z's bad behaviour - his preying on vulnerable kids, his smashing of a window, stealing knives, drawing on furniture.

As we drove from the school to the station, we saw a car had gone off the road. We pulled over and ran down the scrubby embankment to see it. It had ploughed right through the top of a T-intersection, right through the middle of a long sign held up by two poles and off the road, just missing a big old sentinel tree. White airbags lay limp and unfurled on the front seats, though the car was empty.

Two other cars stopped while we were there to ask if everybody was ok.

Later, when we were seated on the train, I thought about Z and the car - reckless behaviour and reckless driving - and I thought about the fact that we had stopped, along with two other cars, and I wondered how and at what age, what stage, a human being learns empathy.