MARCH
Family Is a Long Conversation That Never Really Ends
Family – I asked a friend to describe it and he said, “it feels like an ongoing conversation—one that pauses, loops back on itself, changes tone and occasionally goes incredibly quiet without ever actually stopping.” Such a great analogy for it. Some parts of the conversation are loud. Some have overlapping voices. There are opinions delivered like facts. You’ll hear laughter that spills over the table and into memories you’ll repeat later as if you were all perfectly behaved. Other parts of family are softer. A look across the room. A shared understanding that doesn’t need words. The kind of silence that isn’t awkward because it is familiar.
Families talk in shorthand. Mine do! Half sentences. Raised eyebrows. Code words that mean nothing to outsiders and everything to you. One phrase can summon an entire childhood. One look can say ‘don’t start, I warned you,’ my mum could do that look well. Family is a language learned early and never entirely unlearned, even when you try.
The conversation changes as time moves on. Parents talk less about rules and more about aches. Children talk less about dreams and more about organization. Roles blur. The ones who once answered everything start asking questions. The ones who were always in charge begin handing things over quietly, pretending it’s temporary, but knowing it’s not. This has happened in my family. The death of two family members, my dad moving in with me and bills, utilities, all going into my name – little things, but done for a reason.
Some conversations are unfinished. Words you meant to say but didn’t. Apologies rehearsed too late. Gratitude assumed rather than spoken. We always think there will be time to circle back—until suddenly there isn’t.
Then the conversation shifts again. It carries on in absence. In remembered phrases. In habits you realise you’ve inherited. In reactions that make you pause and think, T’hat was very Mum/Dad of me.’ Or someone you loved who is no longer here but still somehow part of every exchange.
There are interruptions, of course. Periods of distance where everyone pretends they’re fine without checking in. Family conversations can be messy, funny, exhausting or a combination of them all. They can also resume years later as if no time has passed at all, because history fills in the gaps. My brother and I live 16000km apart but if he walked in the door tomorrow, it would be like we’d never been apart.
What’s strange is how the conversation continues even when no one is speaking. It shows up when you cook the same meal. When you repeat a warning you swore you would never say. When you instinctively know who to call first, whether the news is good or devastating. This has happened to me. My mum and me went shopping and arrived separately. We ended parked next to each other.
Family conversations aren’t always kind, but they’re persistent. They adapt. They survive missed calls, misunderstandings, and long silences. They pick up where they left off, sometimes awkwardly, sometimes with relief, sometimes with laughter at how dramatic everyone was being.
And maybe that’s the point. Family isn’t about perfect communication. It is about continuity. The knowing that even when words fail—or stop altogether—something is still being said.
Because family is a long conversation that never really ends. It just changes speakers, volume, and pace. And if you listen closely, you’ll hear echoes of where you came from in everything you say next
FEBRUARY
I miss getting flowers
There it is. I have said it. I miss getting flowers. I am that kind of girl. You cannot beat the doorbell ringing and someone handing you a bouquet, especially if you were not expecting them! My love of flowers is a bit deeper than that. Let me explain.
As I’ve talked about this month, my late husband hated Valentine’s Day. He would never let anyone dictate when to say I love you, and to be honest, he never needed anyone to tell him. He said it every day. He said it when he left home. He said it before he fell asleep at night. He was that man. To top off that romantic side of him, he bought flowers…. every week. Whether they were supermarket flowers or an Interflora bouquet to say, ‘congrats on a new job,’ there they were…every week. When we lived in the UK, he marked our 6th wedding anniversary with flowers. He planted 6 lilies by our front door, every year adding another one.
The wonderful thing when he bought me flowers, was that it never became an expectation. I always was surprised. He would buy irises (his mum’s favourite). He would buy lilies and most of all, there would be sunflowers. They became symbolic for Mark and me.
So, there it is. That’s why I miss getting flowers. It was a symbol of “us.”
JANUARY
Toast – my ‘go to’ meal
You know those times when you just don’t know what to eat? You might have a fridge full of things but just have no freaking idea what you fancy! You open the cupboard door to a full pantry and still do not have a clue what you want. You can’t be bothered to go get a takeaway so that is out of the question. What do you do when you feel like this?
I have a “go to” meal. It’s clean. It’s simple. It’s easy. It’s toast. Yes, toast. Two slices will do. But here is where another quandary kicks in. What to have on it? Do I make it a toasted cheese? Is it to be a toasted ham? Should I put beans on it and have that? Should I have just butter, or should I go for marmite on toast? Ah, decisions decisions.
Well my friends, I always go for one of the last two options. Marmite or butter. Keeping it simple is the way to go. What’s your ‘go to meal?’
Well, let’s be honest—sometimes the thought of thinking about food is more exhausting than making it. On those brain-fog days, the simplest choice becomes the winning one. It is not glamorous, it is not Instagram-worthy, and it certainly will not feature on MasterChef. But there is a quiet comfort in those two humble slices, golden and steaming, waiting for a generous swipe of butter or a bold layer of Marmite. It is food that doesn’t ask questions. It understands you. It requires nothing but a toaster and a moment of decisiveness!
So, here’s to the unassuming heroes of our kitchens—the pantry staples that whisk us through indecision and deliver a warm hug in carb form. I may not always know what I want, but I always know toast won’t let me down. And if anyone ever tries to judge that choice… I will just offer them a slice and let them join the enlightenment. Now spill it—when your culinary motivation has taken the night off, what dish steps in to save you?
