Imperfectly Perfect

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I so enjoy being my imperfectly perfect self. There was a time though that I relished the world of perfection. I walked hand-in-hand with it for quite a few years, and here’s what I know.

There is nothing wrong with being happy with what you’ve accomplished and seeing it in the perfection of the moment. That’s a very joyful thing, however, it is important to realise that perfection is not a realistic reachable goal, and it should never become an obsession. When we start to feel we want to control everything, that’s when we get ourselves into trouble and have to do some serious work on letting go. But having said that, never fear perfection either for as Salvador Dali said, ‘you’ll never reach it!’

Feeling the need to be perfect ‘all the time’ is very stressful, and in reality, you can never get everything right all the time, so why be so hard on yourself? Relax! Don’t bash yourself up if you make a mistake ~ mistakes are in fact golden gifts. Welcome them, learn from them and be grateful that you are human after all!

Who wants to be perfect all the time anyway ~ it would make for a very boring and isolated existence. Aim for excellence instead, and while you’re doing it, make friends with your imperfectly perfect self. Cherish those imperfections of yours, for they will not only endear you to others and make you more lovable, each one can teach you something.

Another thing of course is that if we spend all our energy focusing on an end result of perfection we risk losing sight of the journey. I’ve always had a natural talent for order, neatness and organisation (I don’t like sloppy), and I love the challenge of getting things done the way I want ~ it always gives me a buzz, but these days I make sure I enjoy the journey as well.

The bottom line is we are not meant to be perfect, we are meant to be whole. We are wiser, stronger and more beautiful for having travelled our journey. Find value in your imperfections and love yourself despite your flaws. Fortunately, I can say that I now live my life, not judging myself, not upset by my mistakes, and not wanting to control a thing ~ I travel far lighter without the burden of being perfect. I have a laugh and am very, very happy to be my imperfectly perfect self.

Inara Hawley © 2014

A Pleasing Pattern

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Are you a people-pleaser? Fortunately, I’m not, and haven’t been since my teenage years. I have pretty much done what I wanted to do, and I have never had a problem saying ‘no’ either if I didn’t feel right about doing something.

Having said all that, there was a ‘pleasing pattern’ which came to the surface quite unexpectedly ~ one that I thought was long gone. It really surprised me, and had it not been for a very direct statement I may have missed it, which would have been even more surprising given how brutally honest I am with myself.

At the time I was at university ~ a confident and successful 40 something businesswoman who had stepped away from what she did very well to follow a new passion. But given my miserable school history both in primary and high school, stepping into the academic world after 25 years was not only a momentous step, it was a huge challenge.

And I did it brilliantly because I loved it ~ straight A’s and distinctions. And with each result, I’d phone my mother, and with great pride tell her about my latest achievement. Until one day she said, “You know I’m proud of you, but I hope you’re not trying to please me. Do it for yourself.” And suddenly, it struck me, I did want to please her. I’d slipped back into an old childhood pattern ~ I was the good little girl performing perfectly because it made my mother happy.

What an amazing realisation! I couldn’t believe it was still there! Over the years Mum and I had spoken openly about why she steered me in the direction she did when I was growing up. As far as her children were concerned, her hopes were high. She wanted the very best, which for her was a cultured upbringing. And being as tuned in to her hopes and dreams as I was, I fulfilled them to the best of my ability. I played piano beautifully and danced ballet, even better. And while there is always an element of pressure in having to practice daily and rush off to lessons I didn’t question it, for me it just was. My sibling’s response however was quite different. My brother flatly refused to have anything to do with the piano and couldn’t understand why Mum kept dragging us into the city to see Swan Lake and Giselle, or sit through Madam Butterfly and Faust! And by the time my sister came along, well, times had changed, and freedom was in the air ~ she happily did whatever she wanted!

Education was also very important to my mother. The war had completely destroyed her hopes for higher education so when I decided to apply for university, I was yet again fulfilling her dreams. It would seem the stage was set, and there was no way I was going to escape revisiting the past. It was almost as if the Universe had conspired for it to be dealt with, and deal with it we did ~ instantaneously!

I have never been one for over-analysing. I don’t see the point. For me, it’s a waste of time. Once I see it, it’s fixed and I move on. And that’s what we did, my mother and I. I can’t thank her enough for recognising the pattern, for in that moment we were both released. She was not prepared to repeat the past, and I was finally free to be truly true to myself. The pleasing pattern’s power was at last gone.

Inara Hawley © 2014

Getting Educated

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We all know that education is important, however, getting educated is not always about academic results. School was not a happy time for me. Coming from a non-English speaking background my primary years were for the most part confusing and lonely. My one good year, the final one, did nothing to magically change how I felt about school, and after years of practising and performing all I wanted was the freedom to have fun. I certainly wasn’t prepared for the strict authoritarian system which awaited me in high school.

Now education can, and should, be fun and enjoyable, especially for school children. I know this for a fact. However, the ‘chalk and talk’ method of teaching we were subjected to in high school was mindlessly and hopelessly boring. To be honest, I can’t remember one challenging, interesting or satisfying moment ~ not one! The focus was only on results. And so I developed a healthy disregard for the system and everyone in it, and instead of applying myself, I chose the path of least resistance ~ I decided not to participate and did the bare minimum.

In my second year of high school, I really dug in. While I never got into any trouble ~ I was quiet and obedient ~ I didn’t put in an ounce of effort. My mother was called in to discuss my ‘lack of interest’, and while it was a mystery to all concerned because I refused to discuss it, a conclusion was reached. Due to my recent IQ test results ~ obviously I must have thought that was fun because I came through with flying colours ~ I would not have to repeat the grade. As I was a year younger than everyone else, it might not have been such a bad idea if encouragement and support may have been forthcoming, but as it was, I blundered on!

Needless to say after five long years, it was a relief to leave. My final results fell far short of shining ~ I failed. But I wasn’t the least bit worried. I had complete confidence in myself ~ I knew I’d be fine. My mother, while she would have loved to see me go on to university, also knew I’d be fine. She didn’t ask me what I wanted, but she didn’t berate me either. Instead, having watched me apply myself diligently in both piano and ballet over the years, and knowing my abilities as only a mother could, she pointed me in exactly the right direction ~ a short technical course which suited my skill with numbers and bookkeeping perfectly. And I breezed through it! It was easy. I was organised, had a good head for figures, and it wasn’t too many years before I was working in trusted administrative positions … and after I was married, I happily managed the family businesses.

Apart from spending a few years studying herbal medicine when I had a sick baby ~ a purpose which I was very passionate about at the time, I had no deep desire in furthering my education. Life was good, and I was very happy. But as always in this journey of ours, new paths present themselves. And when I became a school mother, that’s exactly what happened … a new passion was born. I wanted to teach. So in my early forties, I applied to university, and based purely on my determination and enthusiasm, for I didn’t have the required high school results, I was accepted.

Getting Educated

Graduation Day with my family

And I can’t tell you how much I enjoyed it. I loved, loved, loved, being a university student. I used to stand in the middle of the campus and just drink it all in. The challenge, the effort, the satisfaction and the accomplishment were all thrilling to me. It was hard work, but every second was worth it. While I am, and always will be a product of the school of life, getting a degree was the biggest gift I have ever given myself because I followed a dream, believed in it and succeeded. But while getting educated is important ~ it gives us choices, and that’s a wonderful thing ~ success and happiness in life does not depend on academic results or higher education. It depends on love, passion, determination, belief and confidence, and the joyful enjoyment of the journey. That I know for sure.

And so, I write this blog post for two reasons, both of which are based on my personal experience. Firstly, to say, don’t pressure your children. Take the focus off results and performance. Ask them what they want and listen to what they have to say ~ you may be surprised. They have a lifetime to get educated, and when they are ready, they will do it. In fact, some life experience before they go off to higher education is a very good thing. They may even make a different choice while they are out there getting that life experience, and that’s OK too! Let them choose, and then, even though it may not be your choice, support it.

And secondly, be an example for your children. Show them that they can follow their dreams. My daughter watched me follow mine. She watched me succeed in my chosen work, and then succeed in following a passion. And I did it all for my personal pleasure, in my own time, when I was ready. And she is doing exactly the same.

Inara Hawley © 2014

Analysis Paralysis

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Do you over-think? Do you play out your doubts, worries and fears over and over again in your mind, and try to organise all those thoughts so that they make sense, but you still can’t move forward? If the answer is ‘yes’, then maybe you are trapped in analysis paralysis.

Obsessing over issues and getting stuck in clarifying, rationalising, and justifying is akin to cluttering your mind with unwanted thought litter. It’s not only hugely counterproductive, it complicates your life even further for it creates more problems and worry, and ultimately leads to feelings of negativity.

Analysis of course is a valuable tool if you use it to move forward. Analysis paralysis however is like a revolving door ~ it goes nowhere! It makes you feel helpless and out of control. So maybe it’s time to clean up those thoughts ~ stop getting lost in the clarifying, stop constantly poking it with a stick. That only keeps you stuck and creates more unwanted thought litter to clean up.

Get out of your head space, look at the big picture, accept ‘what is’ calmly, and start telling a new more positive story about yourself and your future. There’s no such thing as the perfect answer. Life moves on and we must move with it. So let go of over-thinking and start building a new stronger you. Make a choice to be more joyful and turn your thoughts into useful positive ones. And remember, ultimately, everything always works out … always!

Inara Hawley © 2014

My Nigella Moment ~ Pumpkin Blinis

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It was a stinking hot night when I had my ‘Nigella’ moment. I had cooked dinner earlier for Hubby ~ one of my own creations from leftovers … you know the kind which desperately needs using up, or it ends up in the bin.

Anyway, I was feeling creative, and like Nigella, I relished each ingredient as I reached for it in the fridge ~ golden pumpkin mash, glistening sweet chilli sauce, a perfect white round egg and luscious smoked salmon.

So I set to work. I drained the mash, cracked in the egg, added the sweet chilli sauce and mixed with gusto. I was getting hotter by the second, but I was on a roll. I dusted in a snowfall of flour and a sprinkling of seasoning, mixed some more and it was ready to cook.

My Nigella Moment - Sweet Chilli Pumpkin Blinis

Sweet Chilli Pumpkin Blinis with Smoked Salmon

Out came the pan and on went my sweet chilli pumpkin blinis. The mixture made quite a lot so I ended up cooking for a while, but it was worth it. Served with smoked salmon and salad, Hubby loved them, and I was happy too. I’d used up the leftover mash and enjoyed my burst of creativity, but apart from a quick taste before they went onto the plate (and yes, they were really good), I didn’t partake. I was far too hot to even think about eating.

Then later ~ much, much later when the house was quiet, and Hubby and the cat were both snoring, I had my Nigella moment. In bare feet I padded into the dark kitchen, opened the fridge and suddenly it happened … camera, lights, action! There on the middle shelf sat my inviting delicious little blinis topped with twirls of smoked salmon!  With a hugely satisfied smile on my face I popped one into my mouth, closed my eyes in delight, reached for another, shut the door and toddled off to bed … my sensual ‘Nigella’ moment was complete! And here’s the recipe as far as I can remember it!

Inara’s Sweet Chilli Pumpkin Blinis

Ingredients:

  • 1 egg
  • 2 cups well-drained pumpkin mash
  • 2-4 tablespoons of sweet chilli sauce depending on taste
  • About ½ cup of flour ~ add till you’re happy with the consistency
  • Seasoning to taste ~ I use Marigold Swiss Organic Veg. Bouillon Powder

Method:
Mix all ingredients together. Spray a large frying pan with oil and cook smallish dollops of the mixture over a medium to high heat for a few minutes on each side until cooked through. This mixture makes about 18 blinis. Serve warm with smoked salmon and salad, or cold topped with soft white cheese and twirls of smoked salmon or anything else that takes your fancy, and please, in-joy!

Inara Hawley © 2014

Want or Desire

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We all have things we want and desire, but here’s the thing, and it’s very important ~ there is a big difference between want and desire. And when we understand it, it’s like turning on a light. Life can change almost overnight!

So, what is the difference? When we are in a state of wanting we are focusing on what we don’t have. In other words, we are focusing on lack ~ on the ‘not having’ of it. And focusing on what’s missing in one’s life generally brings with it a lot of dissatisfaction and negativity ~ self-pity, frustration, even hopelessness. It suppresses the possibilities and leaves no room for creative expansion.

Desire on the other hand is full of creative expansion for it brings with it enthusiasm and exuberance. It is that strong heart-centred feeling which comes from deep within. And within that, is the seed of passion, motivation and powerful intention. Desire is an empowered positive state, open to creation and possibilities. When we are in a state of wanting we are attempting to fill a hole, a place of needy emptiness. But when we are in a state of desire, it’s all about inspired feelings and delicious anticipation, which in turn opens doors and creates pathways.

So what are you focusing on ~ is it wanting or desire? Find the vibration essence of your desires ~ bring yourself into harmony with them and stay connected to the positive feeling of it, and don’t forget to ask yourself every single day … what else is possible?

Inara Hawley © 2013

The Magic of Christmas

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I don’t bake, I really don’t. But Christmas is coming and this year I have decided to do some baking. And as I haven’t done it for years, it requires some pre-Christmas testing. So this week I’ve whipped up a few treats in preparation for the oncoming food festivities.

Christmas CakeHubby, who would almost walk over hot coals for fruit cake is my tester, and he is loving every minute of it! He was brought up on homemade cakes, biscuits, and all manner of delectable preserves and desserts made by his mother. Sadly, he has had no such luck living with me! I have however, created my own special food traditions over the years, and Christmas is part of those special memories.

Being European, my family celebrates Christmas on Christmas Eve, which during my childhood was always a magical night. Our Christmas tree with its pine needles touching the ceiling sparkled with tinsel, shiny baubles, and dangling bags of chocolate money. And our little house, readied for the evening’s celebration, was filled with the glorious sounds and smells of Christmas. For my brother and me, it was the most exciting night of the year for without fail, every Christmas Eve Santa knocked on our door. We were always beside ourselves with anticipation, bouncing from room to room and peeking through the windows. And just as darkness fell, there he was on our porch with an enormous bag of presents over his shoulder.

And such is the magic of Christmas, that as he jollied his way through the front door everyone’s eyes lit up. The adults welcomed him as if he was a long lost friend, and we children looked on with wide-eyed excitement. Then he would take a seat, declare what a wonderful night it was, and turn to us children. For the tradition was that before we received our presents, we performed for Santa. My brother recited the same poem each year, and I tinkled a tune on the piano. That done he reached into his bag and gave everyone a present, and then with a great flourish was on his way. It never occurred to us children to put two and two together when shortly after Santa left, a favourite uncle arrived!

Then it was time for food ~ our table was laden, and I mean truly laden, with gastronomic delights. No English Christmas dinner with pudding for us! We began with freshly baked Latvian pirags followed by homemade rollmops, devilled eggs, marinated cucumbers, sour cream, and smoked ham. Then came my mother’s European potato salad, her German ‘kommen morgen wieder’ ~ a delicious savoury pancake, and the yummiest sauerkraut with succulent crumbed pork chops you ever tasted. And for dessert, Mum’s special dried fruit compote served with homemade custard. All of it wonderful!

Pirags

Latvian Pirags – delicious little buns filled with bacon and onion

Rollmops

Rollmops ~ pickled herring with dill cucumber

My parents’ house was ‘the’ Christmas house for many years. My mother was a wonderful cook and my father loved a party, so naturally everybody came. After I was married the mantel to create the merriment on Christmas Eve was passed to me, and for a number of years everyone came to our house. My mother brought her sauerkraut and potato salad, a trifle arrived with my brother’s family, and everyone else brought their good cheer. And not only did our Christmas Eves sparkle with tinsel, baubles, wonderful food and the same magical goodwill and love of childhood days, Santa always arrived as well!

      Santa Claus    Family Christmas

Our family is now spread far and wide, but as many of us as can still gather on Christmas Eve, which these days is once again held at my mother’s. And as I bake and taste, and bake some more, my reminiscing fills me with joyous memories. And as only childhood memories can, awakens within me once again the magic of Christmas and the happy anticipation of sharing it with my family.

Inara Hawley © 2013

A New Stronger You

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If you are having trouble letting go of past hurt and pain and it keeps knocking at your door, perhaps it’s time to create a new stronger version of you. And it’s not as hard as you may think. It’s just a matter of harnessing imagination with intention, and focusing on it ~ creating an image in your mind of the new stronger you, engaging with it, feeling it, and holding it every day as often as possible.

But don’t make it hard work. Make sure you feel good when you are doing it. Play with it ~ create anticipation, fun and joy. What fabulous outfit are you wearing, what fun thing are you doing, how passionate do you feel, how vibrant are the people around you? Imagine it with intention, feel it delicious anticipation, and be it with heavenly joy. And then hold it for as long as you can.

For when you feel good and make it fun, your whole being will begin to resonate with the harmony and joy of it, and the Universe will line up more and more matching joy, and you will move closer to your vision.

The new you will become stronger and stronger. Everything you learn will be added to the new you ~ every time your self esteem bursts through with joy, every time you love yourself a little more and every time you choose to feel good it will be added to the new you until one day, the new you will be stronger and more powerful than what was before. The attachment to the past will be gone, replaced by something so much better. And then it will be easy to say, “That was then, and this is now”.

Inara Hawley © 2013

Lunch in Paris

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I was just married and in Paris for the first time. It was Hubby’s favourite city, and he wanted very much to show me why he loved it, and so on the few days that we had there, we walked until we almost had holes in our shoes. But our time was short. This was our honeymoon and we had the rest of Europe to see, so on our last day we decided to do a late morning bus tour to see the parts of Paris that our feet had not yet discovered.

After about half an hour of winding through narrow streets we were negotiating the traffic in the Avenue Franklin Roosevelt when our tour guide said, “And on ze left we have one of ze top ten restaurants of ze vorld”.  Without a word, we looked at each other and in unison rose from our seats, pressed the stop button on the bus and got off! And in our jeans and joggers, we walked through the front door of the Lasserre.

The LaserreWith great aplomb we were ushered to our table. Not an eyebrow was raised as to our casual attire, especially given every table was occupied by very fashionable gentlemen in business suits. My eyes took in everything at once ~ huge windows with sumptuous drapes, high ornate ceiling, beautifully set tables, silver service on crisp white tablecloths, crystal glasses, and three levels of waiters in waistcoats and bow ties. It was elegance personified!

The menu was outstanding, and because we simply couldn’t help ourselves, we ordered the Pheasant Under Glass, and it was magnificent! Every course was brought to us for approval and then went back to the kitchen for plating. And between each course, sorbet cleansed our pallet to prepare us for the next delight, and the junior waiter brushed down the tablecloth and changed the cutlery. The service was outstanding, and we were basking in the ambience. It was pure indulgent pleasure, and of course we lingered over every course with enjoyment. We were making a memory, and loving every second of it.

When it came time to use the restroom, it was an experience in itself! I was escorted to and from the ladies. Yes, that’s right! A waiter walked me all the way to the ladies, waited and then walked me back. It was slightly disconcerting ~ my first thought was, I can do this on my own, but then I thought, hey, give in and go with the flow!

Now I haven’t mentioned the wine because we left the choices up to the Sommelier, who outdid himself ~ even the port was perfect. As we were raising the last glass of nectar to our lips, we noticed the room was getting a touch hazy ~ all the French gents were puffing on their after lunch cigars … well it was 1976! And then suddenly, the ceiling parted, and we were looking at the sky … and all the smoke dissipated! It was absolutely astonishing!

When it came time to pay the bill we confidently flashed the Diners Card, but amazingly, it was politely refused … “No sir, ve onlee accept ze cash or ze personal cheque”. Well we had no cash, but as luck would have it, I had my personal cheque book. What a relief that was! For a second there we thought we’d have to wash dishes! So with the same aplomb as we were seated, they accepted my cheque. It was such a class act given I was on holiday from another country. I was then given a long-stemmed rose and giddy with good food, good wine, and French gallantry, we floated back to the streets of Paris, and back to our hotel to pack for the next leg of our honeymoon.

In the years following we had the opportunity to visit a few more on the top ten list of best restaurants of the world, but our experience at the Lasserre was by far the most impressive. And thirty six years later, while we remember the magnificent Notre Dame Cathedral, the amazing Louvre, our trip down the Seine, the spectacular Lido, the elegance of the Parisians and the fabulous street artists, it was our impromptu lunch at the Lasserre which remains the most memorable memory of Paris, a city we both fell in love with.

Inara Hawley © 2013

The House in My Dreams

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When I dream about a house it’s almost always the same one ~ the house I grew up in. A modest two bedroom fibro rental with a big backyard, it was plain and basic, and looked like all the houses in the street. So connected am I to the memories of it, I can barely remember living elsewhere. After moving around like gypsies during our first few years in Australia, it became our safe haven ~ the house which we made into a home, and where we lived until I was 18 years of age.  It’s where I started and finished school, where I found my first job and where I experienced all the significant events of childhood and young adulthood.

While the house may have been plain, it was very well dressed, especially on the inside. You see, my mother loved to decorate. It wasn’t unusual to come home to find our beds in another room, or the lounge suite recovered! She painted and wallpapered, and moved furniture from room to room regularly. When she got it into her mind that it had to be done, it was done! One day I came home from school to find her painting. Nothing unusual about that, except that on that particular day she was painting the kitchen ceiling. Barely five feet tall, she had created her own special painting platform ~ she’d placed a chair on the laminate table and on top of that there was a stool. And perched on top of that, was my little mother painting the ceiling watermelon pink! As a consequence the kitchen had the honour of being the most impressive room in the house for a couple of years.

Our Street

My brother on his scooter in our street

Even though our house was small, it was always bursting at the seams. The little room off the kitchen, which many years later I realised, was a dining room as it also had a door into the lounge which we blocked off with the piano, was our guest room. And it was always occupied, by either a full-time boarder or a friend in need. Mum, being who she was, opened her heart and door to them all, and they became part of our family.

The borders were generally lonely gents who drank just a little too much, and the friends in need nearly always outstayed their welcome. When my aunt and uncle moved in for a year with my two cousins the house was reorganised yet again. They occupied the guest room and the lounge room. Mum never turned anyone away.

A party at our house

A party at our house ~ Mum with Dad reclining in front are on the left, and I am on the far right.

Yes, it was a house full of people, but it was also a house full of parties. Having survived the war, my parents and their friends took every opportunity to enjoy life. A weekend rarely went by without the clinking of glasses, music, dancing, laughter and convivial conversation. Compared to our quiet Australian neighbours we made lots of noise, but that’s who we were ~ it was the sound of joy and gratitude.

My mother would be in the kitchen cooking up a storm, and my father would be enjoying time with his war mates, mostly single men who had been separated from their families during the war. They gravitated to us to be part of our family, to hear the sound of children and get a home cooked meal. On those party weekends, when we woke on a Sunday morning, we always seemed to have accumulated more people, and Mum, being the kind soul that she was, fed them yet again.

My sister's christening

My brother and I with our baby sister taken on her Christening Day. As always, Mum sewed our outfits and worked well into the night to get them finished.

Every event in our family was celebrated in a big way. The most impressive of all was my sister’s christening. Eighty people filled our little home. Furniture was crammed into the two small bedrooms and trestle tables with pristine white tablecloths were set up in the lounge and down the hallway. Mum cooked for days and did a wonderful job, but the pièce de résistance was the suckling pig which Dad roasted in the ovens at the local bakery where he worked. It was quite a party!

While we created many a good memory during our years there, the day came when it was time to leave. My parents were about to become home owners for the first time ~ a newly built house awaited us, and we were so excited. I said no sad goodbyes ~ not even to my friends. Our bright future was the only thing which filled our hearts and minds that day. There was however one heartbreaking moment which still tugs at my heart, and that was having to leave behind a little beagle. As with all the people who found their way to our door, he was welcomed with open arms. He had loving owners, but during the day they weren’t at home, and in search of company, one day he found us and fell in love with my baby sister. From that day on and for the next two years he spent every day with us, going home only in the evening. As animals do, on the day we left he sensed something was amiss. He watched us load up, and as we drove away he ran after our car. He finally gave up, and with tears in my eyes, I watched as he slowly disappeared into the distance.

So it was with sadness and joy that we moved on. The little beagle who loved us and the house which was our safe haven for so many years became part of our past, firmly locked in my heart, and in my dreams.

Inara Hawley © 2013