This week, some kind of normalcy ascended over our clan. Home was, sweet home, not a concept about a place that we were still hoping to inhabit fully. We have begun to collect some new memories about this space with its brick home, perched above the grandeur of Bass Strait. We’ve had our hands coated thickly in the soil, rich fertile soil a reddish brown. The first red wine stain has persistently marked the carpet from an evening with friends.
One afternoon we all sat, rested, watching children’s tv and drinking tea. The house did not smell like paint, more like the washing drying inside while more Spring showers ripped across the skies. The weather failed to tamper with our spirits, instead we embraced the coziness of a fresh living room.
This week, we gathered at the beach and the big clumsy dog explored the seaside hamlet terrain leaving his scent about the place. The little black cat left a rabbits paw by the front door. We answered questions about the new house with positive notes of “settling in” and really believed it.
This week, there began a fresh file of fiction on this laptop. We made “rainbow” play dough, and Angela the doll had a birthday party on the new dining chairs with a colourful array of salty treats followed by a treasure hunt through the nooks and crannies of the house.
This week, another job is on the horizon; work/ play mingle like friends and old routines wend with new.