Is it better not to think? Is it better to become absorbed in a new way of life until it doesn't hurt anymore? I don't know. I guess there is no healthy way. No "normal" way.
Look at me - all gloomy on my night alone. I may be gloomy but it feels nice to have the space to be melancholy for once. It's nice to have space enough to think.
I'm sitting at the dining table in a beautiful house. It's not my house. We're house sitting for our neighbours. The house is filled with Aboriginal art. Every wall is crammed with dots and colours and patterns and stories. This is exactly the kind of house I hope to live in one day, when I'm older and have my shit together. There are pots full of basil and parsley and oregano in the back yard. The bookshelves are lined with interesting and important titles without being pretentious. The animals that live here are affectionate strays that found a home. When the owners were here the kitchen always had dinner cooking and bottles of nice red wine open. At the moment there's dinner cooking and cheap cask wine. But that sits ok with me.
Last night my flat mates and I went to "boot camp" (a hideous outdoor exercise class we mistakenly enrolled in). As we flung our protesting bodies up Billy Goat Hill (as they call it) I saw a rusty brown kangaroo bound away across the rocks. It's not every day you see something like that.
And here's something else for you - every morning I leave the house for work and across the road my neighbour's yard is full of pink and grey galahs, quietly milling about. How'd you like them apples?
Sometimes it's nice to be alone for long enough to contemplate the galahs, the red dirt and the basil in the back yard.
1 comment:
you can drink cheap cask red with me anytime.
also our basil is doing quite well at the moment.
reading your stories it's like you're sitting next to me telling them to me so i don't miss you. then i realise you're not and i do. 53 days soph!
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