heavy in

I watched a movie with a friend, and I rediscovered the wonder of having someone to share a joke with. Companiable laughter in a near-empty theatre is something not to be scoffed at. And family moments. Aunts and cousins. Long boys with voices off-key. Uncles spouting words of wisdom. Big band music and the Rat Pack. Fusilli tri-colore with tomato sauce. Tea and crackers. Catching flying ants in my bare hands and throwing them off the balcony. Of such things are good Fridays made.
And Saturday? Saturday was better. It is a day like this that makes you feel saturated. Morning tea and oatmeal porridge. Discussions on spelling bees and quiz shows. The price of ambition. Be, have, do. Inspiration. Poor plumbing and water that flows the wrong way. Country Roads.
And then a five minute wait for a bus and an unexpected find. Red water tanks, empty sites, phone calls and messages. Old friends are something special. Talk of shoes and ships and sealing wax. Boys and books. Songs and dogs. Love. Life. Laughter. And then a lunch with rice and rajma. and papad. Jelly children, doctors and beauty queens.
One lone tree with leaves glinting in the sunshine, and an acting class with a migraine and a dead loved one. An aching band around my heart and the memory of a dead kitten.
What a strange world this is.

Perhaps I will elaborate. But I make no promises.