Moving on...
Right now I'm at my desk, overlooking parklands, listening to the traffic sounds from below. Tis funny to reflect that when I was growing up, I aspired to living in the thick of it all, the centre of the city, to have night light views. And here I have it, my son even enjoys it (he's currently running his toy truck across the windows and emitting toddler language at the cars below) and will be moving on, whenever it is that the new house is painted and habitable. (Floorboards sealed, gas connected, electricity functioning safely, sufficient rugs and curtains sourced to make it less of an ice block during winter).
It seems I spent much of the past 2 years wishing to move on, wishing a big backyard for my family or a place I could entertain guests, overlooking my privilege at living on the city fringe, with so many bike paths and different parkland areas to explore. The day that A and I cycled around Bonython Park and onto the Wheatsheaf reminded me of how little I've explored that western parklands area. And entertaining guests-who besides stay at home mums have anyone but their very most intimate friends over anymore? My friends who visit, don't care what kind of space we live in, and they're the one's that matter. I've put cellophane shapes on my windows and helped the light beams visit.
It seems I spent much of the past 2 years wishing to move on, wishing a big backyard for my family or a place I could entertain guests, overlooking my privilege at living on the city fringe, with so many bike paths and different parkland areas to explore. The day that A and I cycled around Bonython Park and onto the Wheatsheaf reminded me of how little I've explored that western parklands area. And entertaining guests-who besides stay at home mums have anyone but their very most intimate friends over anymore? My friends who visit, don't care what kind of space we live in, and they're the one's that matter. I've put cellophane shapes on my windows and helped the light beams visit.
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