Daylight savings says it's one time but my body says it's another. The morning light is clean and new and I'm sad about saying goodbye to the little things, now. The way light spills through the lounge room window in the morning, giving everything a glow. The sounds of neighbors getting up and into the day with slams of dustbin lids, back doors and shuffling along the back fence we three neighbors share.
I've awoken with my dreams still lingering as memory, rising like the curls of steam from my morning cup of tea. A dog barks blocks away. I don't want to miss a thing in these last 48 hours in this my neighborhood of 2 and a half years. I dreamt about walking around a large outback lake with other walkers following us. Becky Hirst was leading the way and I was worried our friend Katie wouldn't find us because we were so far 'back up the track'.
In the dream, it was hot. I had peeled old colourful paint off the side of an old 19th century building, I wondered if it was a film set? And then I was laying long pieces of stripped paint on the floor wondering about outback trade across Australia 200 years ago, and would 300 yards of muslin really cost six shillings to transport across to Perth, as the writing below me said?
Back in Somerton Park, through my front window I see a walker waiting for his dog wait at the end of my street, deciding which direction to go in. They turn and walk away from the beach. A girl rides by chattering to her dad, enjoying the morning's adventure.
I'm grateful to be alive, to want to get into every minute of every day. I'm nervous about the unknown, of course, but hope I can hold onto this love for life and a sense of belonging in a neighborhood. It amazes me how a life can fit into boxes sealed up with sticky tape - I expect them to burst open and get on with living the way this move has taken 4 weeks to happen from an idea to a reality.
It is amazing what a person can get used to.
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| Empty Henley Square at 5.30pm Grand Final Day |
I've awoken with my dreams still lingering as memory, rising like the curls of steam from my morning cup of tea. A dog barks blocks away. I don't want to miss a thing in these last 48 hours in this my neighborhood of 2 and a half years. I dreamt about walking around a large outback lake with other walkers following us. Becky Hirst was leading the way and I was worried our friend Katie wouldn't find us because we were so far 'back up the track'.
In the dream, it was hot. I had peeled old colourful paint off the side of an old 19th century building, I wondered if it was a film set? And then I was laying long pieces of stripped paint on the floor wondering about outback trade across Australia 200 years ago, and would 300 yards of muslin really cost six shillings to transport across to Perth, as the writing below me said?
Back in Somerton Park, through my front window I see a walker waiting for his dog wait at the end of my street, deciding which direction to go in. They turn and walk away from the beach. A girl rides by chattering to her dad, enjoying the morning's adventure.
I'm grateful to be alive, to want to get into every minute of every day. I'm nervous about the unknown, of course, but hope I can hold onto this love for life and a sense of belonging in a neighborhood. It amazes me how a life can fit into boxes sealed up with sticky tape - I expect them to burst open and get on with living the way this move has taken 4 weeks to happen from an idea to a reality.
 |
| This move is sponsored by Lenswood Apples |
It is amazing what a person can get used to.
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