Dear Readers,
It’s been a hectic couple of weeks since I last wrote.
Nine months ago, a freak tornado tore the roof off our holiday home. At the time, I was taking a break from writing my blog. Life was busy, my novel demanded every spare moment, and to be honest, I wasn’t in the right headspace to tell you what had happened. I could barely make sense of it myself.
Then came months of waiting. Frustrating phone calls gave way to insurance assessments, engineering reports, quotes and, inevitably, delays.
Eventually, the new roof finally went on. This week, the real work began.
The featured photo tells its own story. I took it on the day it happened, standing in what had once been our living room, just after the television crews had left. I remember the surreal feeling as I looked up. The sky had become the new ceiling.
For a few moments I simply stood there. After the frantic phone calls, the drive south and the chaos of the morning, it was the first chance I’d had to absorb what had happened. The devastating call had come just after seven o’clock that Sunday morning.
‘Gill… your roof has just blown off.’
My poor husband was four thousand kilometres away in Darwin, about to press ‘go’ on a major project he had spent months preparing. There was nothing either of us could do except respond to what was unfolding.
I barely remember the drive down the freeway. What I do remember are the extraordinary people who were waiting when I arrived. The volunteers from the State Emergency Service had already jumped into action. A live power line dangled from the house while the wind and rain continued to wreak havoc inside. Before long, our wonderful neighbours appeared, sleeves rolled up and ready to help.
Between the SES volunteers and our neighbours, I witnessed the very best of humanity. Together they worked with remarkable efficiency and kindness, moving the entire contents of the house to safety. It was one of those moments that quietly restores your faith in people.
Meanwhile, our metal roof had been carried by the wind and wrapped itself around the house behind us. When our neighbour opened his curtains that morning, instead of looking out onto his garden, he was staring at our roof.
Only two weeks earlier, I had listened to the sweet sound of his little grand-daughter playing in that very garden.
Then I found myself thinking about something I hadn’t considered before.
Just a few days after the tornado, a family was due to move into the house. Like so many places around the world, Australia is experiencing a housing shortage, and we had decided to rent the house to a family who needed somewhere to live.
If the wind had waited just a few more days, there’s every chance their children would have been playing in that living room at seven o’clock on a Sunday morning.
Once that thought settled, everything changed.
Instead of dwelling on what had happened, I found myself profoundly grateful for the timing of the freak event. The roof had stood the test of time. But weather events are becoming increasingly severe and, if it had to come off at all, the timing could hardly have been kinder.
Our neighbour’s grand-daughter wasn’t visiting that weekend.
The family hadn’t moved in.
Nobody was injured.
Nobody lost their life.
Standing in that roofless room, I realised there was far more to be grateful for than distressed about. While the TV crews wanted to sensationalise the catastrophe, I quietly thanked my lucky stars and the amazing people who gathered around me.
This week, while down on my hands and knees scraping, cleaning and slowly putting everything back together, I’ve found myself reflecting on where life has brought me.
In between the clean-up, I’ve been working with my editor and book designer to finalise my debut novel. Earlier this week, after I discovered yet another silly mistake I’d somehow missed, I confessed to Sarah, my editor, how overwhelming it all felt and asked her why this was. I imagine her smiling as she replied by text, ‘Because you’re about to give birth.’
I found myself sitting with that for a while. And then smiling too.
It’s been nine months since the roof came off, and now the house is finally being put back together. Over those same nine months, another labour of love has quietly been taking shape.
My first novel.
Looking back now, I realise this year hasn’t simply been about rebuilding a house.
It’s been about rebuilding a dream.
I can’t wait to share my ‘new baby news’ with you very soon.
Thank you for being here.
Love,
Gill
