The journey of
creating this film is taking me through the photos and memories of renovating
of our longhouse. I had certainly always remembered the difficulties.
I was told during the five year period that
many couples split up during living- on- building- site renovations because it
is such a strain. Well, yes, but we didn’t.
In writing the story of my Llan, I am
reminded of the care, time, focus and attention to detail we put in to make it
what it is today…a beautiful home.
I sit here in my sunflower yellow
office on orangey red desk chair and white desk. I now share quiet companionship in this room
with still-not-divorced- after- all- we- have- been- through- husband. I look
around with a quiet gladness, even awe, at our brave endeavours . I will choose
to let go residue of lime green bitterness of how hard it was. It makes it
easier for warm colour coordination.
Yes, the outer world is still filled with
injustice, violence and environmental destruction. These days I allow myself to
see and rest in the beauty more often, in my home as a starter. The sign near my entrance door says..’Home is
where our story begins’
Some homes begin very difficult stories. Like
for my children.
In
conveying the story of being an adopting mother to my adopted daughter within
the film, I am challenged to not fall back into the hurt and difficulty and
heartbreak.
I am
creatively given an opportunity to use the art form of film to use an image, a
sound, maybe no words at all.
By ‘GOOD’ I don’t mean ‘happy’ and ignore
or pretend that there was no endless heartbreak of my daughter’s rejection. Her running away back to her birth mother
after nine years of my mothering was real and humiliating and devastating.
No, by ‘GOOD’ I mean how can it move me on
in its telling (thank you Tracy for your sensitivity and stillness) But more
importantly, so that the film may touch viewers in the places they have also
been heartbroken. Then together filmmaker and film watcher may be sharing a
story of humanity ?
Anyway, ponderings…as a needed break from
working out what camera shot goes with what photo, what text, what sound and in
what position?
From heart to head and back again.
The story of my adopted son is much easier
to tell.
He
did not want to break free of my heart and home.
Now seventeen, he still comes back home from
his working apprenticeship in Swansea
three nights a week. We hang out and chat and laugh together and share a love
of musical theatre which is good for singing together in the car!
Another break will be writing Valentine cards
tonight to absent wild fire adopted daughter and level headed -living-at-home
adopted son so they know they are still loved.
There is the miracle, that a broken heart can
and will love again.
Maybe first I will jump up and down on my
small trampoline for ten minutes so the body gets a look in too…
