Outside in the Sun
I have had a nostalgic week filled with wonders down memory lane while I sip on steaming coffee and gaze out the window at the pouring rain and watch my once colourful spring garden being torn to shreds by gale force winds. This morning’s sunrise has brought with it crisp clear blue skies and brilliant sunshine prompting a need to be outside wrapped up against the icy breeze just to feel the sunshine on my back with my laptop propped on Little Butterfly’s bright yellow table. As I look up my gaze falls on the dormant volcano that dominates the view from our back garden and I squint my eyes against the glare that reflects off the fresh layer of snow that coats the mountain. My Butterfly is wrapped in her duvet with her bottle of tea and her bowl of dry cornflakes watching a “Strawberry Shortcake” movie, the Mauritian is snoring quietly in our bed having a well deserved sleep in and I am, once again, feeling just a little sentimental.
This week I remembered that a friend and my Grandfather share a birthday. I have never remembered Maccy’s birthday until now and I wondered if it’s not a residual memory of Marnie mentioning in passing what the date signified to her. I remember so little of Maccy; my memories of him are made up of the memories of others. I realised also that I have no pictures of him only the memory of his smile and his laugh that seems imprinted in my mind and I wonder if others can remember the sound of his laughter.
I remembered the birthday of a lifelong friend thanks to the birthday reminders on “Facebook.” It’s amazing to think that the two of us and her sister have been friends since birth. Not given a choice we were often left to our own devices and each other’s company while our parents knocked back a few too many. We grew up in very different environments, went to different schools, have different friends, different careers, different philosophies and now live in different countries. But we have, through the years, chosen to remain friends and have shared and celebrated all our milestones. There have been many occasions when, having knocked back a few too many of our own, we have drunkenly but proudly proclaimed that we are literally lifelong friends! There are very few people who can say something like that and not be exaggerating and fewer still who are blessed like me to have not one, but two lifelong friends. One of who shared with me the trauma, drama and heartache that came with our choice to leave our home and begin a new life at the end of the world. “Facebook” has also put us back into contact with so many of the friends that the Mauritian and I have made and lost in the twenty years we have been together. Most of them are now scattered throughout the world and we are slowly catching up with each of them and the goings on in their lives. I enjoy the fact that we have such a variety of friends doing jobs like garden services, working in a brewery or even a member of the Royal Navy Submarine Corp. But in reconnecting with some we have lost others! It saddens me that there comes a time when you really do need to just let some friends go. That our lives have changed so much and we are heading in two different directions and can no longer remain friends, but when you have given all you can and received nothing back in return it is time to let go of the friendship before the good memories are tarnished. But what hurts the most is that moving countries has unavoidably severed ties with some friends we would dearly like to hear from.
Saturday brought with it our anniversary; eleven years of marriage past by in a flash, I wonder, where did the years go. We still so fondly remember the first awkward teenaged conversation we had over twenty years ago. Our first “date” that I ended up funding because the poor Mauritian had been pick- pocketed in the library. We often talk about the first impressions we gave each other’s parents and siblings and how we felt when first meeting them. We still laugh when we recall the first time the Mauritian joined my family for lunch and he politely refused a second bowl of food, then years later admitted he really wanted more but didn’t want to create a bad impression. Of course now if my very talented mother cooks something that appeals to the Mauritian he’ll unashamedly finish the lot. We can remember every moment of our wedding day with crystal clear clarity, it was truly a happy day for both of us and I hope for our families. So we spent our anniversary as we always do, the Mauritian cooking up a storm in our teeny tiny kitchen sipping on a glass of red and talking about the people and the times past. Outside the wind was howling mournfully through the trees, the rain whipped against the window panes begging to be let in and our Little Butterfly lay snug and warm in her bed listening to her favourite CD.
The weather has turned once again the clouds have gathered and obscured the sun. The Mauritian is awake and wanting coffee and food and my Butterfly has removed her clothes stuck her head through the fence and is yelling at the neighbours chickens. I must pack away my memories and my laptop and return once again to the present.
This week I remembered that a friend and my Grandfather share a birthday. I have never remembered Maccy’s birthday until now and I wondered if it’s not a residual memory of Marnie mentioning in passing what the date signified to her. I remember so little of Maccy; my memories of him are made up of the memories of others. I realised also that I have no pictures of him only the memory of his smile and his laugh that seems imprinted in my mind and I wonder if others can remember the sound of his laughter.
I remembered the birthday of a lifelong friend thanks to the birthday reminders on “Facebook.” It’s amazing to think that the two of us and her sister have been friends since birth. Not given a choice we were often left to our own devices and each other’s company while our parents knocked back a few too many. We grew up in very different environments, went to different schools, have different friends, different careers, different philosophies and now live in different countries. But we have, through the years, chosen to remain friends and have shared and celebrated all our milestones. There have been many occasions when, having knocked back a few too many of our own, we have drunkenly but proudly proclaimed that we are literally lifelong friends! There are very few people who can say something like that and not be exaggerating and fewer still who are blessed like me to have not one, but two lifelong friends. One of who shared with me the trauma, drama and heartache that came with our choice to leave our home and begin a new life at the end of the world. “Facebook” has also put us back into contact with so many of the friends that the Mauritian and I have made and lost in the twenty years we have been together. Most of them are now scattered throughout the world and we are slowly catching up with each of them and the goings on in their lives. I enjoy the fact that we have such a variety of friends doing jobs like garden services, working in a brewery or even a member of the Royal Navy Submarine Corp. But in reconnecting with some we have lost others! It saddens me that there comes a time when you really do need to just let some friends go. That our lives have changed so much and we are heading in two different directions and can no longer remain friends, but when you have given all you can and received nothing back in return it is time to let go of the friendship before the good memories are tarnished. But what hurts the most is that moving countries has unavoidably severed ties with some friends we would dearly like to hear from.
Saturday brought with it our anniversary; eleven years of marriage past by in a flash, I wonder, where did the years go. We still so fondly remember the first awkward teenaged conversation we had over twenty years ago. Our first “date” that I ended up funding because the poor Mauritian had been pick- pocketed in the library. We often talk about the first impressions we gave each other’s parents and siblings and how we felt when first meeting them. We still laugh when we recall the first time the Mauritian joined my family for lunch and he politely refused a second bowl of food, then years later admitted he really wanted more but didn’t want to create a bad impression. Of course now if my very talented mother cooks something that appeals to the Mauritian he’ll unashamedly finish the lot. We can remember every moment of our wedding day with crystal clear clarity, it was truly a happy day for both of us and I hope for our families. So we spent our anniversary as we always do, the Mauritian cooking up a storm in our teeny tiny kitchen sipping on a glass of red and talking about the people and the times past. Outside the wind was howling mournfully through the trees, the rain whipped against the window panes begging to be let in and our Little Butterfly lay snug and warm in her bed listening to her favourite CD.
The weather has turned once again the clouds have gathered and obscured the sun. The Mauritian is awake and wanting coffee and food and my Butterfly has removed her clothes stuck her head through the fence and is yelling at the neighbours chickens. I must pack away my memories and my laptop and return once again to the present.
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