Andrews Limousines

23/02/2026

worth it

22/02/2026

22/02/2026

22/02/2026

21/02/2026

20/02/2026

31/03/2025

brillient

18/06/2024

I can't stop the rain.

But I will hold the umbrella.

Even as my children get older,
taller,
and closer to grown.

Even as I know life is both.
Sunshine and rain.
Immense joy and immense hard.

I can't stop the rain.

Despite giving it my all.
Despite deeply cherishing.
Despite loving unconditionally.

The rain comes.
In aches. In grief. In uncertainty. In trials.

I can't stop the rain.

And I'm not meant to.

Because I know it's on me
to protect them from life's storms,
but to also give them the skills to navigate the waters.
To guard them from the floods,
but to also understand some rain is needed for growth.

It's a sacred dance we do as their mothers.

It's a back-and-forth rhythm of shielding,
while trying to grow their independence.
It's trying to raise them to be ready and capable,
while still protecting and nurturing.
It's holding on,
while gently letting go.

I can't stop the rain.

And it's my job to teach them to maneuver through it.

But for as long as I'm able,

I will hold the umbrella.

Because while I can't stop the rain,
I can give them the gift of knowing
that whatever they're going through,
if the storm becomes too much,
there is someone who will stand beside them

and hold the umbrella.

(words You Are Loved - Emily Roussell)

19/10/2023

I saw it all, the day after I left.
I saw my family, my friends, bereft.
I saw their pain, confusion, their shock.
I realised my demons had run amok.

Of course I mattered, of course I was loved,
of course I was not better off above.
Because being above, means seeing it all.
And now I know that my life wasn’t small.

My life was precious, I gave it away,
I listened to darkness, it showed me the way.
But now, from here, I see it anew.
If only I’d stayed and pushed on through.

But here I am, looking down from afar,
watching the pain, a lifelong scar.
I’ll never be gone from the hearts that I touched,
If only I’d seen, I was always enough.

Credit: Donna Ashworth

ART BY Lisa Aisato

19/10/2023

Have you ever thought: “I’m fat.” “I’m old.” “I’m not enough.” “I’m past it”

I was young once.

To all my female friends from 50 years and up:

Most of us are going through the next phase of our lives.

We’re at that age where we see wrinkles, gray hair, and extra kilos.

We see the 25-year-olds and reminisce. But we were also 25 once, just as they will one day be our age.

We aren’t the “girls in their summer clothes” anymore.

What they bring to the table with their youth and zest, we bring our wisdom and experience.

We have raised families, run households, paid the bills, dealt with disease, sadness, and everything else life has assigned us.

Some of us have lost those who were nearest and dearest to us.

We are survivors. We are warriors in the quiet.

We are women, like a classic car or a fine wine.

Even if our bodies aren’t what they once were, they carry our souls, our courage, and our strength.

We shall all enter this chapter of our lives with humility, grace, and pride over everything we have been through, and we should never feel bad about getting older.

It’s a privilege that is denied to so many.

•

Credit unknown
Photo from Pinterest of Yaze Meenah