Author Archives: Pauline Small

About Pauline Small

After a long and varied career in teaching, I am now able to pursue my other love - writing as a form of exploring the depths of life's experiences. I live in South Australia, in an ordinary house in an ordinary suburban street, which is where the extraordinary happens every day.

Sacrifice.

The word ‘sacrifice’ has had problematic meanings over the course of my life. This coming ANZAC day has me pondering its meaning again. The thoughts are all bound up with memories of the smell of my dad’s suit as I … Continue reading

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Shaking With Rage.

I am so angry I am shaking with rage. Outrage, yes, but mainly pure rage. The kind that you can’t contain, makes you want to vomit, or punch something while you scream. Perhaps not the best time to write a … Continue reading

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Dust Dirt Soil Earth.

       Remember man, thou art but dust and unto dust thou shalt return. Those words have hung around in the recesses of my mind since I was an earnest little girl of perhaps nine or ten. They form part of … Continue reading

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Wanting To Know.

Life is flow: I hear that and sometimes I get it. There are glimpses of the enormous warm dark full of unseeable light. They are brief (or are they eternal?) and they satisfy deeply but by not being able to … Continue reading

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Sometimes Getting There Takes A Little Longer.

Unusually for me, I have attended three Christmas services this year. It is hard for me to do, as I have a passionate distaste for the common Christmas Carols. The music is fine, in its essence, even though ruined by … Continue reading

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Passing The Baton.

This has been a Christmas of transition. We all gathered for Mum’s 90th birthday in a rocking party in November enjoying contact with 100 family and friends – but now we are making a big change in December. We are … Continue reading

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Ready Once More.

Ready Once more..

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Ready Once more.

  After a few weeks of being quite sick, I woke up today feeling energetic and alive. The relief is sweet. The bird song is brighter and clearer outside the window, the little dog is looking hopefully at her lead, … Continue reading

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Doors Closing.

Doors Closing..

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Doors Closing.

                          Ben is two. When the train pulls in and out of the local station, five minutes walk away, he hears it acutely. On his Gma and Gpa day this week, his response to the sound of … Continue reading

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