Pinot, Bretzels, and Cathedrals

Mon Chères,

Last week was a flurry of birthday party activities in my rather simple life- heading to shops to buy sweets and serviettes; making goodies for the infernal party bags; printing pictures and baking cakes.  It could have been so much more stressful if it wasn’t for the talent of one of my ‘lovelies’, who is so über-creative and talented.  If the business doesn’t take off, she could at least add a contributory piece to the collections of “The Complete Idiots’ Guide To: Throwing your Child’s Birthday Party in a City Apartment”.  I did realise though, that an hour after the allotted collection time, our home was cleaned up, and we were chilling on the couch as we do on a Saturday evening.  It was nothing like our South African parties, where I would be cooking for adults and kiddies alike, and would inevitably crash on my bed at midnight with ice still melting in the cooler boxes which we left in the braai area, and a sink full of dirty glasses.

With the March birthday fortnight out of the way, my hubby asked me this morning what I had planned for today.  I was a little perplexed, because my day was empty, so I figured that I would write to you all, because it’s been a while.  The thing is, and this is quite dismal (for me, anyway), that there is nothing to write about.  It’s as if my life has just settled into a moat that circles a castle.  There is no upheaval, no excitement; there is nothing new going on, no great desire to express something deeply passionate, but quite simply, day to day activities.

Of course, there is nothing wrong with this, is there?  Normality is good.  But I really do hate the fact that I have nothing new to tell you.  Do you want to know about the way parents at the International Section (the school the girls are in) have rallied and created an unprecedented change in school direction?

Or can I write a music review? Do yourself a favour and listen to Die Heuwels Fantasties. Anton and I are totally and utterly absorbed in their music. How strange is it that while ‘at home’, I very seldom listened to Afrikaans music, but now I cannot switch my iTunes onto anything else? (Until I can buy it on iTunes, I shall listen to the new version of Ballade Vir ‘n Enkeling on YouTube…over and over again. I have no words to describe the way it settles in my core.) My question though, is do I fixate on them because I can seek a connection to South Africa in this way, or does it appeal to my dark heart?

Dark heart?  Yes.  I have a dark heart.  Or maybe just a dark side, an underlying being that hovers there waiting for an excuse to surface.   But you now that about me, don’t you?

That aside, I am happy to announce that spring has sprung.  We are still a week away from the Equinox and two weeks away from the clocks changing back to normal, but the daffodils are a day away from bursting open, and the magnolia trees in the common area of the ORT Residence behind us have little white patches showing on the tips of the branches.  Very soon the air will be scented with a hint of magnolia- for a French friend of mine, that’s her sign to pack away the winter coats and boots.  In our house, we’ve done that already- my children appear to be allergic to winter coats.

I’ve managed to go out for 2 morning runs this last week, wearing only a ski-type undergarment and a light jacket that I use for its’ pockets. From school I head over the bridge that crosses a canal, towards Kehl (Germany), but before going AWOL in Kehl, I track back over another bridge, where there is a coffee roastery. Mingled in with the putrid scent of decaying water in the canal (I don’t know why, but that canal just smells rank), is the rather unusual heady smell of coffee beans being burnt. I don’t crave coffee like my hubby does, but both occasions on my run in that direction have made me run faster for home, anticipating that espresso from our little machine.

Strangely, the one thing that is actually making me look forward to a run is the opportunity to listen to my music. Does that sound really strange? When you have that sound in your head that carries you, it does exactly that. It carries you. I think this is where I get the notion of my dark side- that need to be solitary, with your head in another space. If I was that person all the time, I couldn’t be a mom or wife. I need that. A friend wrote last week that she was finding motherhood hard, in that it completely changed everything that was once hers. I couldn’t agree more. And it’s why I have this dark side, and I give in to it, in those hours between dropping off at school, and pick up.

Life goes on in constant cycles- I’m obsessing about the second European spring I’m experiencing, but soon enough, it will too just become another unnoticed marker in our lives. Is it just me that feels that there is so much distance between us and you? I hate the way that I don’t know what’s making you happy or sad, that I can’t sit with you and talk like we used to. It’s the gaps that have appeared, and it’s become difficult to circumnavigate them.

Seriously. I have nothing. Nothing else to write about that is. I’m sitting here with a cup of 5 Roses in my hands, rereading this over and over, and I can’t decide if I should post it. And listening to Ballade vir n Enkeling for the 16^th time. Today. That’s not counting the 28 times yesterday afternoon.

Somebody, throw me a bone. Send me a challenge. What do you want me to see and do? Seek out strange French music? Write a novel? Master the art of Traditional Alsace cuisine? (Choucroute? Baekoffe?) Photograph lurid underground scenes in the dark of the night?

Oh well, I think that’s about all the rubbish I can spew for one day.

Know that I think of you often, miss you loads and loads. Hugs and kisses to all. XXX