It's been
years since I've gone out on New Year's Eve.
I like to spend the night at home, thinking about
things that have happened, should have happened, will happen or might
happen.
This
year, in sunny Queensland for the first time in over 10 years, I'm
thinking about how much things have changed here since we left more than
20 years ago with Farouk and Jehan, in an old Ford towing a trailer
with a few bags and boxes, and a lot of trepidation and uncertainty.
There was some talk about visiting our old neighbourhood. We wonder how our neighbours are.
They were old when we were young. A few were sickly. We kept in touch
for a while after we left, but not in the last 15 years or so. I have a
feeling they might be dead. I don't want to know really because it would
cause me some regret.
I'm not sure I want to see the old house with its giant jacaranda, taking up the whole front yard. Or the 2 poincianas by the kerb. Mostly because it would make me think of Jehan and Farouk lying in dappled sunlight, on a carpet of purple and red flowers.
I'm not sure I want to see the old house with its giant jacaranda, taking up the whole front yard. Or the 2 poincianas by the kerb. Mostly because it would make me think of Jehan and Farouk lying in dappled sunlight, on a carpet of purple and red flowers.
One of the best surprises we've had since arriving, is how
friendly the people are here. They still say "G'day!" when they pass by
on the wide and quiet streets in my brother's neighbourhood.
G'day!
Seriously? They
smile. They nod. It's almost unsettling to be looking at someone's eyes as they walk by, rather than above their heads and into the distance.
when 4 little girls walking by stopped and came up to me. "Why are you taking pictures of the tree?" they demanded loudly and without a hint of shyness or decorum. And then "Why don't you climb up to take the pictures?" When I showed them the strap around my stinky knee, one of them offered, "I can climb up and take them for you if you like!"
Children who talk to strangers? Not so common where we live. My brother thinks they would just have run off with the camera. But I am choosing to think otherwise.
So thank you little girls. It's nice to know that somewhere, kiddies are still kiddies, and parents still feel okay to let them walk around unaccompanied.
One morning, we took a train to Chinatown in the Valley. (Total waste of time if anyone reading this is considering a visit.) On the ride back, as the train pulled into our station, a young man pushed the button to open the doors for us. I guess he saw our shopping bags in both hands.
Trivial? Perhaps. But it's been a long while since I've experienced a simple courtesy like this in Sydney where school children often take up seats on a bus while adults with stinky knees and grey haired nanas stand. (They're not supposed to do that by the way, but the drivers don't admonish them often enough.)
So thank you, young man, whoever you are. You might look a little scary, but you're more than okay.
But frankly, I don't care. Whatever it is, I'm going to soak it all up while I can. We leave on January 1.
hAPpi*ness
That's pretty much what I'm thinking about, 1 day before another new year. What about you?
Thank you for dropping by in 2012, and for taking the time to share your thoughts. Another year gone! I can hardly believe it.
Thank you for dropping by in 2012, and for taking the time to share your thoughts. Another year gone! I can hardly believe it.
With LoVe as always,
The Typist X