i’m the perfect resident of stuttgart

i do washing and walk down the street like i know where i’m going. i carry my just-in-case umbrella. i do grocery shopping with my canvas bag. i go grilling with german girls and boys. i listen to the words georgie says, they form a conversation just out of reach from my understanding – intonations, pace and rhythm as though it’s all the same.

i’m getting used to listening to languages. if i just find the peaks and troughs, if i hear the story from the start, if i stop trying to find the words, i find the theme and i laugh along. foolishly, perhaps.

but do i care?

not
one
bit.

this week, i’m a resident of stuttgart. this week is love and this week is friendship reunited. and i’m bottling it all, to savour these feelings, for the next long absence from my dear friend georgie.

four

my heart races to the sound of voices in the background, mumbling into one, a word standing out here and there.

but my heart races. that’s the point.

it’s in the air, it’s on my skin – it’s tears stinging at the backs of my eyes. excitement, extreme excitement…

i’ve missed you, terribly.

sunrises, sunsets, europe.

logan joseph

he was born two days ago. a perfect miracle – two lives, one. a photo stilled my heart, i let out a sigh of love and disbelief at the beauty of his face, his two tiny hands resting gently on the blanket. big, bright eyes. a world of possibility.

so innocent, so unknowing. a tiny life that has changed so many others, with grace, already. and that’s the thing about a baby, about LJ. he made his mark from the second he arrived, the first time he looked into his mother’s eyes, the first time his father held him.

his life is a blessing, he is the extraordinary result of love. two hearts combined, two souls creating a destiny. it’s fate, in its purest form.

i am so proud of you lex – a brave and beautiful woman – and luis – a strong and willing father – you are both the reason for this miracle.

love found a way. love into life into little logan joseph.

pull my heart out [like a rug] from underneath me.

it’s beating fast tonight. something has me on edge. i’m snappy and i’m angry and i’m taking it out on people i love most. i’m sorry, i am.

i think it’s because she’s leaving. a wonderful girl – running away to chase her dreams – flying to london tomorrow, to see the bridge fall down, ride a double decker bus, eat scones, wave to the queen, and do everything else you do there. not that it’s new, to her.

in a serious way, i’ll miss her like mad. but the excitement i feel for her swells in my veins. the love i feel for the moments i know await her, is physical. overwhelming. it’s like a dream you can’t escape – fluid and vivid and full of scents that pull memories to mind. 

and i’ll be there soon enough, feeling something new everyday. finding my way, wandering in lust for the big fat world eating me up.

bon voyage ranny. may every moment be food for your soul.

mkt.

cut from the same cloth, us two. i’ll miss him when he leaves – for that enormous world of unending possibilities. but life doesn’t change when you’re on the same path – here or there. anywhere.

hearts and momentum, of time as it should be. moving with us, with our step, with the pace of our souls. we’re all intertwined by fate. that invisible red thread, tugging at our heartbeat, our wrists and ankles – tying us to each other, our neighbours and our friends, and strangers down the street. it’s a never ending race track of dreams one step ahead.

you’re certainly catching yours, my friend.

pru. she was away for a while. doing something meaningful. filling little lives with hope. i missed her.

there’s something about pru and i. i’ll always have a huge amount of love for this kid.

in mysterious ways.

she told me these things. and people ask: but now that you know, aren’t you looking for that? well, yes. i am. unfortunately, but fortunately.

i told my friend alex today. (alex, who is always there to listen to my struggles. who offers fabulous advice. and always barracks for the underdog.) i told her that i recognised it because i knew it. it was fate all along. fate that i’d see her and be told what i was told. it was fate, because maybe i needed something to push me into it. to make me see it. open my eyes to an opportunity that might not have been anything at all, if i didn’t know it first.

it’s interesting to think about, nonetheless. 

so yes, now i look for all those things. those things the psychic told me. be as cynical as you want. but it’s already falling into place. or placing itself somehow, surrounding my life in moments made too perfectly to be just a coincidence. it was always meant to be this way. 

boo boo.

and at that moment, i was overcome by an absolute wave of emotion.

i wish it too, brooke. we had that bucket list we were ticking life from. slowly creating memories, slowly seeing our lives fall into place. the momentum of it all pushing us to the next.

check, check, check.

i read that sentence you wrote to me and it brought back those feelings of all those outrageous and fun times we shared. you’re so right, ying and yang. 

if only adelaide was in sydney, you said. if only.

and on that bucket list? the dream to live together, one day. you and i. painting our nails at midnight and drinking wine till our lips turn red. speaking about life until we’re blue in the face and finding the moments to spend with each other between life and other things. being kids and being grown ups and knowing it’s okay to be both.

i miss the life we had together. but we’ve grown; on our own, in different cities, with different friends and different lives. it’s that thread pulling at our ankles and our wrists, keeping us somehow together.

if you tug, i’ll follow.