Walking in the early morning I can smell gum-trees leafy breeze even though we live just outside the city where the trams are nearly always in motion where I pass all the strangers and sometimes we share a smile.
The moment before it starts, and the moment before I close my eyes – these are where the nice things are. Everything slows down for just a time and you can really feel your breath, the small of your rib cage moving and the thrum hum of a heartbeat. This is mine.
I would open a tea-bar and there would be deck-chairs and no loud musics but hammocks and some gentle indie music like Jose Gonzales. We could all do with a little Jose. I’m down for a little bit of shitty pop, so maybe when the sun-sets the tea-bar can change into a burrito joint and we can dance around, fairy-light strung around the yard.
I don’t have a backyard but I have some these plants which remind me to look after something. The world is not just about me.
“Is he the one?”
This , I don’t ever think of, because I don’t believe in exclusivity, or romantic sitcoms which promise another will be your all, your completion. But he’s pretty damn great. He says I’m beautiful. He knows when I’m stressed and massages my shoulders. He makes me laugh and relief comes gushing out in great racking breaths – because all is okay.
I focus on the nice things. I sometimes write about my cranks. Yesterday afternoon while waiting for a tram that wasn’t coming through the bleary rain of sticky heat I wrote about my ailments. Sometimes I feel so heavy, but in list form it simplifies it, you can grasp it, not always change it.
But I also try and write the nice things. The moments as they unfold because you really have to get your head out of your Facebook feed. Here, the kids at the library sing and laugh.
A lady belts out Adele drunkenly on a Sunday morning. The first tea of the day steams in a mug. Calmness on a yoga mat. My niece smiles at me pulling a silly face. A boss says good job. A dog runs away with a loaf of bread.
What nice thing have you seen today?