Pinot, Bretzels, and Cathedrals

Monday evening, Boxing Day.  As usual, my husband is at work, despite the public holiday.  Right now its hard not to be bitter about it, but such is whats normal chez on a la moment.  It’s probably better for all of us for the time being- space may, or may not, lead to a greater appreciation in a few months.  Time will tell, and if things do fall apart, it will not be a case of me not trying.

I am sitting in my kitchen, cosy behind the shuttered windows this evening. I have had more than my fair share of tea and coffee today , and certainly the 10 dead soldiers after lunch yesterday means wine is out, so I’m sipping on water.  The girls have a visitor staying the night (our first real friend sleepover), and since I wont let them watch a movie, I myself can’t watch Netflix while I make dinner, so here I am instead.  My iPod is playing in the background, and its recently been filled with a new playlist- all sorts of music that I would have played in my car in the days I used to drive long distances.  

(Sigh). Those were idyllic days.  Once upon a time, my luxurious treat from me, to me, was a stack of CD’s.  In my Joburg-era I used to drive up to Sandton City Mall and drop a cool few hundred bucks on 3 or 4 cd’s at one time, and when it was holiday time I would drive down to Natal with my tunes blaring around the interior of my feisty little red Polo, and looking through my rear view mirror in the early dawn, or late dusk, I would pretend to be Oliver Stone, directing an edgy monochromatic movie.  The closest I get to a solitary road trip these days is the 15:05 No. 2 bus from my apartment to the girls school, which is long enough to be a waste of time, and short enough that I can barely open my kindle to read anything substantial.  Plus, in my 39th year, I can hardly be THAT person whose earphones are so loud, that the bus driver can hear my 2005 choice in music.

As you know well, serendipitous moments like this right now- being able to just be, lost in my written thoughts and music, are only too scarce, so I am savoring my time.  It goes without saying that when we choose to spend our life with someone – because lets face it, being your own girlfriend is still lonely, but we end up losing the core of our being.  I speak for myself here, and I’m not sure how alone I am in this.  Perhaps you see it that I have lost my identity, and I have a right to recapture it.  But perhaps someone else might see it as an expected evolution- after all, we can’t continue to live hedonistic lifestyles all the way to watching the sun set over the African savanna while smoking a joint, our silver-tipped canes leaning against the chair and handbags bulging with heart-medication.  But then again- why not?

I’m rambling.  I have spent many a day in the last 4 months with my thoughts all over the place.  They tend to swing from one extreme to the other.  On one day, life is seen to be simple, basic, manageable.  But on others, I’m distracted, confused and incapable of having a coherent life-altering focus.  Even now, I’m too scared to write up the glaring obvious that some of you know about, but that’s what it is at the moment.  Real grown up problems.  Much more than having a shitty job, or a leaking drain from a bank account.  No, scratch that.  Those are also real grown up problems.  I guess it just comes down to the season.

So what is my reason for writing to you? I guess I don’t have one, there has been nothing significant and symbolic on the go.  Christmas is as good as over.  We celebrated Christmas Eve with the 4 of us, eating tapas.  Anton made hummus, we placed a Spanish Ham on the table, and we opened a bottle of Champagne. Earlier in the day we went down to the Christmas market one final time (it could well be my 4th, and last Christmas Market), and had a vin chaud and Nutella-crusted waffle.  We drank beer, and set up the tree with beer for Father Christmas and carrots for the reindeer.  On Christmas Day, I cooked, I cooked up a magnificent storm as only the best form or distraction.  We had Canadian friends come for lunch, and it was a beautiful, chilled afternoon that seemed to mask the underlying rough edges that is currently our existence. The question will remain, will this become normal until I break completely, or will we recover?  What will 2017 bring for us?

There is it.  The reason for me writing.  The good with the bad.  

What ever it is I am going through, I am not alone and this is by far not the worst experience that a person can have.  It’s a mental space, wrapped up in a physical space, and I have faith that something will give, one way or the other.  

I guess its no longer the day after Christmas.  I’ve been selfish with my time long enough, the washing machine is calling, as are the girls, who are currently rollerblading around our 100square meter box.  The remnants of their attempt to do their own thing are scattered over every possible surface.  Oh, for a proper amount of time to just ignore being an adult…

Here’s me signing off for now.  I hope that when I get inspired to write again to you, that it’s more flippant, and fun.  But, at least for now, I put pen to paper… I had a few hours of broken up time.  

If I don’t chat again between today and Sunday, all the very best for the New Year.  May 2017 bring peace and fulfillment.
Xxxx