The boys who helped me be brave

These are my big brothers and yes, that t-shirtless blondie is me. We are covered in mud from playing in the lane behind our house. My childhood has many happy memories and I’m so grateful that my parents caught lots of these moments in photos. I played in mud. I went sailing. I made marble tracks. I played monopoly on Saturday mornings and, around my brothers, I always felt brave. It never occurred to me to be anything other than brave. They believed I could do anything. “Come on Sair….!” And I would. Yes, I got dumped by the waves that I was too little to jump over even though my brothers could. Yes, I cried when I couldn’t do something as well or as big or as whatever….heck, I was little. But the cool thing was that crying didn’t mean I hadn’t been brave. I was.

I failed.

I cried.

I tried again or did something different.

I’m so lucky to have these brilliant humans as my brothers. They still say, “Come on Sair!”, but it means so much more now than just jumping over waves.

The way things are these days, with #metoo and #timesup and all the rest of the very important issues of equality, I realise I was raised in a way that believed in genuine equality for males and females. Because of the era I grew up in, there was a lot less equity, especially in division of domestic labour, but the value of ‘you’ was never tainted by gender bias. I’m trying to raise my sons in a truly uniquely equal way. It’s hard for them. The inequality my younger son sees at school against boys is everywhere. He’s trying to have genuine conversations regarding equality for all. He inspires me But that’s another blog to be written….

And now I find myself in the remarkable position of going on an amazing trip to Europe with my Dad.

(A quick selfie as we buckle up in the car from the airport to the hotel in Budapest after more than 24hours of travel.)

Now I sit in the hotel room that looks out across the Danube to The Royal Palace…..

I’m determined to try to write something each day. Well, I have the ambition to write each day. I think it would be ace if I could write each day but I’m not going to be too cross with myself if I don’t.

So far I have already cried on two of the flights. But that doesn’t mean I didn’t laugh too, or try things that were challenging.

This whole trip is amazing and wonderful and it is also kind of challenging. The last time Dad was in Europe, it was with Mum. We lost Mum last year.

Lost is a strange term for saying someone died. Maybe, we lost her, but she was released, from the body that had progressed to holding her chained to this earthly life. Now she is free to dance, forever.

Anyway, here we are. Same city, different hotel. Similar trip but very different. I feel nervous about how Dad will cope; revisiting the places he went to with Mum. I feel nervous about how I will cope too. I’ll be away from my sons for a whole month. That’s the longest I’ve been away from them. Ever!!!

Dad and I haven’t lived in the same house, let alone, hotel room in an extra-specially long time.

So we’re trying this. We have a motto for our trip. Nothing is an obligation. Everything is an opportunity.

We went out for a bit of a stroll around the beautiful shops and people of Budapest

A glorious sight of Sunday afternoon community

watching the World Cup. Even Dad took photos of them. So I took photos of my amazing brave dad.

As day one draws to a close, only to be woken by jet lag at 3am…. it gives me the chance to finish this chapter. And show you the view at 3am

I’m so grateful. I’m staying open hearted and still brave.



Author: sheisstillbrave

I’m Sarah, and just like you, I’ve had to be brave. So here we go. My stories, my journey, my laughter and my tears might all rate a mention. But most of all, if I look in the mirror, I want to remind her, She is still Brave!

2 thoughts on “The boys who helped me be brave”

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: