Roots

The sun is ushering away the clouds on this chilly Saturday morning and the birds of South Yarra are positively thrilled about it. I am partaking in a few of my favourite things this morning: rising with the sun, reading the ever-inspiring Brain Pickings newsletter, putting on the kettle, and subsequently watching milk curl up in cloudy swirls as I pour it in my tea. And of course: writing. It is one of a few activities, such as dancing, which I do not engage in often enough. Rather than lament it, I am going to enjoy that fact that I am doing it now.

It is an exciting time in our household. We are moving. Our destination is the other side of the city to an apartment that has insulation, a spiral staircase, and a lack of black mould. I cannot say the same for our current residence. This move means a great deal of things for us. It invites (or insists, rather) a coming to terms. The goal is for this move to not be one of many, but one of few. It is a step in the direction of permanence. We have started the seedlings for our life together, and it is time to plant them. It is time for them to establish their roots -- our roots.

This means I must resolve myself to homesickness. I must accept it as a life-long companion. For even if we moved to Portland, after having made Melbourne our home, wouldn't I simply be re-naming my homesickness? No matter where we are, we are missing out on loved ones and their lives.

I digress... Yes, this is a time of establishment. We are tired of "playing house". We want to be part of a community; where the local coffee shop knows us by name and begins making our drinks as soon as we walk through the door.

For those of us who have become accustomed to (dare I say addicted to?) a certain level of chaos, it is a challenge to learn how to become comfortable with consistency. We shudder at the thought of routine. We've long-since associated comfort with boredom. However, if we give it a chance, maybe one day that feeling of comfort will naturally morph into a feeling of joy. The kind of joy that arises when one feels secure, and even (I cringe as I write this), settled.

Smuggler's Cafe

Watch for the moments.
Those shimmering moments -
of knowledge, of love, of pain.
Those moments when
your observations hang like magic
in the air.

The speckles of grey in my lover's beard,
the cracking paint on the cafe's wooden floor.
The piece of newspaper, folded up
and shoved under the table leg;
the table is stable, thanks to those crossword puzzles.
Over-sized Christmas lights and mediocre beach scenes hanging
crooked on the walls,
creating a feeling that invites a smile
and deters pretention.

All the while my mind overflows with love
for the man across me,
for the dimple in his right cheek,
for those strong, reliable hands
that turn the pages
of the Sunday morning paper.

And gratitude.
For the adventures we share,
for his gentleness,
for the way he calms me with his presence,
and makes my heart pound with a single look,
a single smile.

The moment shimmers,
unmistakable.
I take up my pen,
and write the magic,
before it passes.