It's started, finally. The week of the long goodbye has arrived and this time they are fun! No slinking off into the outback this time. This time it's a square on look at my gorgeous friends in the eye and saying "Jesus, this is really happening." Mostly, I love their reactions, from shock to surprise, to shaked heads and cocked eyebrows (!).
I'm having all sorts of interesting conversations with people on this last whip around. With the MBA crew at a rather long lunch in Cibo, talking about our final assignments, trying new things and how each of us have changed through the past two and a half years of postgrad study. How could we be the same after dealing with the oddballs in group work, drinking dodgy campus coffee and surviving the Managerial Finance exam - the nerve test for all MBA students sans engineering degree? That's a regular lunch date right there.
With Kim at the Espie over cold beer, talking about our sense of god and spirit and how do we find it and what does god look like if you draw it? Is god ok with not having a capital G? How dog is god backwards.
Kim said "Wow, you look glamourous!" as I gave her a hug in welcome.
" Yeah, that's just my make up holding up my face. It's still returning from Perth and is an hour and a half behind." I replied.
It's been a big week.
All the talk of god, as I was riding home I decided to visit the Brighton Cemetry and walk among the dead. As I rode through this space of bones and tombstones I thought of how we remember others, the things they did, how they loved us or not. You can' tell much from an inscription about the way someone lives. I kept my bike moving, not a soul around. Quiet. Noone visiting. Wind in the trees. Cracked cement and lots of faded fake flowers. A grave dug up, I wasn't going near it. Not superstitious, but I didn't want to explore that much. Bones are all that's left at the end of a life, the skeleton that holds us up.
I left the way I came, the cemetry was large and I was feeling a little depressed. There's plenty of time to visit when Im dead. Not even spirits want to visit a graveyard. No ghosts in sight. All busy at the bar in heaven, talking about Dog.
Sunday morning, popped in to have a final cup of coffee with the neighbours, Mary and Paul McCabe. Paul still in his dressing gown, at 11am and loving it. Me too! He knows how to live. The most well connected Adelaide couple I know. In their 80s, their networks and family stem across the country. They are great lovers of the bush, horseraces, a good laugh and sharing stories. While I was there, two other visitors popped in and the stories just got better.
"Remember so and so? Married to so- and so. Lived on XYZ street, two blocks from so-and so. Had ten kids, the youngest related to the Connors." And so on. Couldn't keep up with them!
Sunday at the Wheatie, a fabulous Adelaide pub frequented by musos, roller skaters, gay friendlies and locals.... Sitting at the bar, waiting for 3pm to roll around and for more of my crew to come by for a drink. The bar door opened and a guy and girl walk in. I think, "Man, he looked like someone I knew..." and immediately switched off. The a big hulk of a man approached me and my jaw dropped. I thought he was in the States!?
"No way!" I said blinking in disbelief clambering off my bar stool.
"Yes way!" he responded with the biggest bear hug of recognition. Yes way! It was Chris Vargo from Alice Springs, some 5 years ago since Ive last seen him. Just popped in for a coldie before he hits the road to Port Augusta with new g-friend Emily. Didn't plan it, but travellers up the Track find one another when they need it the most.
Other crew rolled in - old uni mates, Alice friends, family, squashies and niece, the bonkers British crew (you know who you are - keen lovers of the Track), best ever housemate... Sunday afternoon sesh ended with pizza and an open fire, a fine way to say ciao, for now.
