Today is Sally’s birthday. She would have been 50. She’d been hatching plans to visit Amalfi to celebrate this birthday later next year: while her boys headed off to the Rugby World Cup in England, she was conjuring an Italian escape - cooking classes, truffles and Chianti.
I can sum up Sally in just one word. Beauty. Not only was she beautiful, but she brought beauty into the lives of all those that knew her, and loved her. When we, her friends, think of her it is of parties in the kitchen at Head Street, Thursday or Friday night bubbly around her kitchen bench, on the deck, outside their sleep out. Her delicious, lovingly prepared food – that pulled pork, the slow braised lamb, the beetroot and rhubarb salad, beautiful cakes and rippled meringues, stupidly generous wedges of gooey foreign cheeses. And candles and flowers always. That unforgettable night at Rowendale. She personified beauty and made all our lives richer, more decadent, more pleasurable. Together we all learned to be more mindful of these moments, and as I sit here now without you Sal, I’m confident you knew how much we loved and appreciated you. Always ready to put the kettle on, or pop the cork, she created a home not just for Ella, Sam, and Shane, but for us all.
Dear Sally, you were the most beautiful friend to me. I'm glad you knew how much I admired your immense creativity and endless giving. Your wild spirit and your quiet calm. You filled up all that was missing in me, all that I missed about my own dear mum. How I miss you now, not just today but every day as I drive past your gate, no reason to stop. We all do.
For those of you who never had the pleasure, here’s a link to her blog. It’s beautiful. Just like the girls that created it.
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