Our waitress just arrived at our table with dessert, and announced quite loudly, “Hi, I’ve got a sticky date…”
She didn’t even blink when I was obviously trying not to crack up.
She didn’t announce the two serves of lemon meringue pie she was carrying, either.
“You can tell me what to do, or you can tell me how to do it. You can’t do both. This isn’t sex.”
[Howard Wolowitz, Big Bang Theory]
1. It’s obviously OK to wear black to weddings now. It may not be OK not to.
2. Facial hair is obviously back in.
3. It is possible to walk in heels almost as tall as oneself.
4. The right hat on the right guy is absolutely awesome.
Many people spend 45 minutes or more in the car travelling to and from work each day. My lot in life is not much different to theirs in that regard.
However, while they sit in traffic jams or take alternate routes to avoid them, my trip is far less stressful.
Ten minutes after leaving school, I leave the suburbs, the traffic lights and the traffic behind me. The outskirts of town fade into a patchwork of farmland. Cows graze in paddocks beside the road or walk lazily to the dairies where they will be milked for the second time today.
Trees along the roadside become more dense along the farm boundaries, which then give way to natural Australian bushland where graceful gum trees and bright yellow wattle trees congregate in silent beauty. It’s not unusual to see kangaroos or koalas here, especially in the early morning or at night.
The bush opens again into farmland, but the road is still lined with trees that were never cleared when the farms were established. The sun shines through them, giving them a warm amber glow.
I smile, reflecting on the fact that not many people have a drive to work that is as beautiful as mine.
If people would just stop asking me if I am happy to be back from Canada, I wouldn’t have to keep saying “no”.
Every time I say it I feel torn between my two realities.
And if people would stop looking at me when a sneaky tear rolls down my cheek, I’d really appreciate that.
If people would stop staring at me when it’s obvious I am upset, that would help too.
It’s bad enough feeling the way I do, having to resume life as it was before I left and having tears very close to the surface, ready to roll at any moment, without people looking at me all the time and uttering complacent little consolations like “it’s the jetlag” and “you’ll be right when you get back into it”.
I’m not OK right now. That’s all there is to it. Just let me be.
I’m not depressed.
There is a world of difference.
It would be so much easier if I were completely happy to be back. But that isn’t how it is and it doesn’t feel as though that’s going to happen. Not yet, anyway.
Now more than ever, I know part of me belongs there.
Part of my heart got left behind.
A single tear
leaving a glistening trail
down my cheek.
I wipe it away
only to find it