Ceramic Wellington Boots

As much as I typically hate getting sick, this time around I am so grateful for this flu which enables me to sit at home on this cold, rainy day; snug in my robe with a cuppa… and just write.  The past month has been so busy without a moment to spare for my blog or creative writing projects, but it’s all that keeping busy that enables me to be creative I guess.

Instead of feeling creative though, today my mind is consumed with brooding thoughts and I am very acutely feeling the loss of a person in my life that once meant so much to me, and probably always will.  I wonder how many other people loose touch with close friends along the path of their lifetime?  Friends that made significant changes in their lives and those who they couldn't imagine living without.  I read somewhere once that friends are like seasons: coming and going. That breaks my heart.  I wonder if I will ever see my dear friend again, or if she was indeed just like a seasonal flower that bloomed dramatically and magnificently for a season in my life, never to return again. 

I often think of Helen.  Mostly when my mind is completely free and I'm making myself a cup of tea; we drank a lot of tea together - it was sort of our ritual:  I would come over and make cuppas, then we would sit a while on her veranda at the table amidst the haphazard display of antique collectibles.  There were those ceramic Wellington boots that stood by the door; the copper watering can always left by whichever plant she had watered last; the bird feeder, full of seed; that ancient and my most favourite church pew; and of course her pride and joy: those many native Austrlian orchids in all manner of pots that she spent hours tending to. That house is the embodiment of the shabby chic home that I suddenly realize has inspired my personal decorating preferences, no doubt longing to feel the warmth, acceptance, happiness and love that I always felt at her place. 

We met in 2006, when I had just moved to Rockhampton and my life was in complete disarray.  Drawn together by the sadness in both our lives at the time; we became close through our persistent hope for improvement and dual encouragement.  Despite time, distance and many vast changes in my life, she remains one of the two closest friends I've ever had.  Although we grew apart without saying goodbye, my loss and memories of her make me aware of the kind of friend I want to be. 

Before I left Rockhampton in August 2009, already a year had past since Helen and I last spoke, but I wanted her to know how much she still meant to me and give her some sort of token of my love and gratitude.  The token I chose was a necklace I'd found at a local jewellery store that had a large topaz pendant - topaz was Helen's favourite stone, her birth stone and ironically almost the same shade of blue as her own eyes - but when I arrived at her house to deliver it, she had long gone.  I heard that she'd moved to the country to raise baby animals and her son in more serene surroundings.  Today, I'm wearing that necklace and holding the pendant it in my hand as I write this, warming it with my touch, while these fond recollections warm my heart.  Every time I look at it, I remember Helen's beautiful and honest blue eyes, wonder how she's doing and miss her dreadfully.   

Girl meets boy

I seem to be daydreaming more and more as the date of my 2nd wedding anniversary approaches. It's strange to think as I sit here with the heater on, that I once belonged to a world where it is blistering hot this time of year. Summertime is in full (and scorching) swing in Australia and it was in summertime that I met Will. Scantily clad and sitting outside... I find myself grinning as I recall random, sweet and amazing moments of our almost three years together… like the night we met... (Queue the dream bubble)…

 Saturday, 21st February 2009:

It was 6pm in the evening when I arrived at my girlfriend’s, wearing my short, crocheted, white ROXY dress with the sparkles all over it; my hair in curls and makeup light. The sun was still out and I noticed him instantly as I made my way to the kitchen where my friend was preparing the evening’s sides. He sat outside in the patio adjacent the kitchen – visible from about 20 different windows and a large, glass sliding door – smoking his Marlboro lights and sipping a beer. He wore his trademark military cutoffs (an ever present ode to his time spent in the Marine Corps), a red hat with Atlanta’s A symbol and a black singlet.

There were other people there of course and we all got along well. Will and I didn't have any one-on-one chats, just joined in with the group; but throughout the evening my interest and opinion of him increased as I found him to be funny, educated and of course... almost unbearably... sexy. The usual bbq chit-chat lasted for the next 7 hours or so, and it was at about 2am that I realized Will and I were the only ones left sitting out there at that table in a Central Queensland backyard, under the Milky Way.

He had no idea of constellations or planets so we lay on the grass and I explained the galaxy's greenish glow and Venus, pointed out various star signs and symbols. We talked and talked until soon, we were watching the sky change colours into those purple-pink-yellowish hues that arrive just before dawn, and knew it was time to call it a night. Needless to say, I didn't sleep a wink that morning and left as soon as I could... terrified. Although I didn't know him from Adam, I did know that he was amazing.  And not at all like anyone else I'd ever met.

This terrified me because at that point in my life I was focused solely on my career. I had developed a cynicism towards men and relationships of any nature, with no interest in anything like that at all. Secretly and timidly, I read and re-read the Twilight series in bed each night - dreaming of an Edward Cullen of my own; but in reality, I was convinced there was only one place a man like that could ever exist; on paper.

In the short weeks that followed, Will proved me wrong. He turned out to be considerably more debonaire, dashing and romantic than old Ed Cullen. He was also persistent and constant, which a woman who'd been previously hurt needs. We spent every night for two months talking on the phone for hours; speaking of our families, achievements, failures, successes and dreams. I knew I loved him well before he met my parents in April; but I waited for him to tell me first. 

In September 2009, Will proposed on Scarborough Beach in Western Australia and on Dec 28th that same year, we married on the Central Queensland beach of Rydges resort.

I know from experience that there’s no such thing as rushing love. If it’s really love, then it seems that rushed is the only way to be! Every minute apart feels like agony and I know I couldn’t stand to be away from Will. Things like logic or caring for your own self cease to exist; from the moment you fall in love, your focus becomes all about your life TOGETHER and nurturing it so that it grows strong. It’s rare and sacred to find the one you’re meant for, but as soon as you do – you just know. Every thought of previous relationships makes you want to laugh aloud for all the time wasted and tears cried.  

Now, two years on, I recall the night we met and I realize every cliche' about love is true.  Especially: I love him more today then when we'd just met. 

to feel the rhythm of life...

Staind's once played-non-stop classic hit "it's been a while" came on the radio today.  I realised that I either hadn't heard or had intentionally avoided it for five years straight and I was blown away by the miraculous effect it had on me!  As if by a time machine, I felt physically lifted from where I was standing - without even closing my eyes - to my first ever trip to Rockhampton in 2005 with Dan; when he drove me out to meet his dad on the farm that he was living on at the time.

As I began to remember everything and feel exactly what I had back then, it dawned on me somewhere in my subconscious mind: that the emotions attached to hearing an old song have the power to invoke every sense. I could hear the ridiculously loud motor noise of his 180SX and his voice lightly signing along with an implication towards me in the tone; and I could smell Dan's "LYNX" cologne mingled with the ever present smell of cigarettes.  Every detail of the trip replayed in my head like a photo-reel: the arrival, the farm animals, shooting a gun for my first time, Hungry Jacks for dinner and that glorious night sky... to this day the most amazing I have seen: a completely unobstructed and vivid view of the entire milky way with a slight greenish tint surrounding it, with stars as bright and far as the eye could see!

It was quite shocking how easily things that I hadn't thought about in years poured over me when I heard this song; like a massive and heavy wave that was preventing me from breathing and almost suffocating me; until the song was over and I was suddenly back in my kitchen with Baxter at my feet, looking curiously up at me while the radio announcer yapped on about the upcoming and one night only Staind concert in a few weeks time down the street. This hypnosis-like phenomenon sparked a revelation within me that I was determined to prove again as I ripped out my old Staind, Pearl Jam, Tool and Drowning Pool albums and listened to them one by one.

Although not as powerful as that initial shocking encounter with Aaron Lewis' voice in the kitchen - the hypnosis affect was definitely (albeit vaguely) present throughout each song! I somehow remembered every lyric, every pause and even every instrumental feature.  It felt awesome!  Like catching up with the best friends that I've ever had, who I haven't heard from in years, but bumped into to find that we're still as close as ever!  I feel like Staind grew with me at the same time I did.  From the first albums "Tormented" and "Dysfunction" that were as heavy, hateful and angry as I was at the time, to "The illusion of progress" in 2008 which was self-accepting, forgiving and in love.  I often felt the lyrics were written specifically for and about me.  "Believe" reduced me to tears tonight just like it did the first time I'd ever heard it.  I remember desperately needing a confidence boost at that point in my life when I felt truly alone and broken, and BEHOLD: there it was in the lyrical genius of one of my musical idols.

Despite their lyrical relevance, my best friends (fav bands) during high school were so heavy that I hid them from my parents and sometimes even my brother.  I remember begging dad for a discman to be able to listen to my beloved death metal free of criticism from my family or my mother's fear for the damnation of my soul.  I had to hide album covers, especially Tool and A Perfect Circle who adorned witch craft symbols and Slipknot and Korn, whose covers were just weird.  And in the off chance I was caught, I fiercely defended my best friends by justifying their lyrics or life experiences that had made them so angry!  I'll never forget justifying Slipknot's self titled album cover that mum found in my room: (it seems so funny now, yet I was actually afraid she'd take it away from me for good!... I told her:) "they aren't insane or devil worshipers!  They're famous and protecting their identities! Their music is very profound, people = shit is a great message!"  LOL

Although me and my musical taste have both mellowed out over the past 1/2 decade, I have really enjoyed getting reacquainted with my best friends, who I abandoned, but who utterly got me through high school; by comforting me, always being by my side and reminding me that I'm not alone in my loneliness, fears, pain and hardship. Now that I'm a "woman" who's happily married and comfortable with who I am, it's ironic to hear songs associated with past torment, insecurity and heartache.  Everything was a tragedy back then - complete life and death scenario - yet the parents were right in saying it was always a learning curve.

Staind's "Tangled up in you" used to mean something entirely different to me and was in reference to the off again, on again experience with Dan that lasted 8 years of my life.  I felt it a little jolt of it as I heard it for the first time tonight, yet as I lay soaking in the tub and really listening to the lyrics, I thought of Will and I:  how we're in such a great place in our life together - fully trusting, completely happy. ...How he's off tonight in Illinois celebrating Veteran's day his mates and fellow Veterans, and how I'm happy that he's having fun, yet missing him dreadfully and wishing he was home.  These thoughts lead to thoughts of another song called "God bless the broken road" by the Rascal Flats.  It was our wedding song and it talks of broken relationships that lead to our finding each other.  I really have gone soft.