And I miss you

I can't seem to shake the feeling that something is missing. It's a low-grade buzz that every now and again grabs me by the throat and reminds me that you aren't here any more. It's amazing how we become so reliant on having a person around, even if they aren't in close proximity to us all the time. It becomes a knowing. Knowing that you are there. Knowing that when the storm hits that you will come to me. Knowing that your words will not always be gentle, but they will always be what I need exactly when I need them.

You have been my pick-me-up and kick-me-in-the-bum friend for a very long time. A lifetime. I think it has been about 15 years but I haven't bothered to count. And then you left. Off to fulfil your own dream and live your own life. We had left each other before - the odd business trip that took you away, my gap years and contract work, but there was always the knowing that we would be there all the time. Even when it was only a short time that you would be away I always felt that there was something missing.

I hope that lasts. I hope that because our continents of choice and contexts are different now that we still hold enough of each other to always have that. I get a little scared that because we have this vast distance between us that you will not turn to me, and I will fall out of touch with what is important to you a little more each time there is an event or happening in your new life that I'm not there to witness. I hope not. Even from before you left I have been planning to come see you. To sit on your couch and play with the dogs and giggle at how the texture of the dog's tongue tickles my leg when he licks me.

Happy birthday for tomorrow, my friend.

"And I miss you, like the deserts miss the rain".

Hit or Mrs.

Marriage is a bit of a hit or miss thing, isn't it? I mean, it's just not one of those things in life that comes with a money back guarantee or a return policy. I suppose there is the big D if it really isn't working out for you, but then that does seem a bit dramatic. Unless you are Elizabeth Taylor, in which case it's quite run-of-the-mill stuff.

I got real lucky. Maybe it's too early to tell? I'm not sure, but if I measure it on a day-by-day basis, then my days are blessed and good.

Looking back, I am so content with where we are. I admit that I wasn't sure I would be this happy. There was just so much of my damn picture that you didn't fit into! For a start, I wasn't the marrying type. I wasn't looking for a relationship (ok, maybe deep down on some invisible plain buried deep in the dreams of my subconscious I wanted one, but I would rather have dug my own eyeballs out with a blunt pencil then admit that to anyone, let alone myself). We met in a non-conventional environment. I thought you were ok, but it wasn't love at first sight. You told me that after our first meeting, you called your mom and told her that there was something different about me. We met again. Still no great shakes, even though you were a seriously good kisser! Then I got a nasty cold and you called, came round with a pharmacy full of medicine, made me tea, gave me meds, and sat perfectly still for almost 2 hours whilst I slept with my head in your lap, sweaty and drooling. When I woke up, I had a butterfly thought that fluttered through my mind but never settled - I could be with someone like this.
The picture of who I thought I wanted fought back hard and strong ... we are from different religious backgrounds; you are a loner and I am gregarious; you are painfully shy and I am loud and often abrasive; you were an artisan and I am in corporate; I come from a crazy but close family and you don't have contact with yours. You have 2 kids and an ex-wife! Hell no!
But still you gently persevered. You became my one-night stand. Then one night became many nights. There was some drama, some external influences, and every 2 months I dumped your cute ass.

Then you left. You took a job at the coast, got in your truck, and just left.
A week later we got engaged.

We have been married around a year and a half.
I think the most important thing I have learned since I have been married to you is that I like you. A lot. You're a really nice, down to earth, solid guy. Sure I love you, more than I ever thought possible, but I also really like you.

It's not that I was incomplete in any way without you, it's that with you I feel my purpose fulfilled.

A Wow Quote

Seen on Post Secret:
"We accept the love that we think we deserve".

Wow.

Saturday Night Memories

A weekend that started of with all the promises of happiness and togetherness. Mellow Fridays with dvd’s and take out.
An early start on Saturday morning to go drool over cars that are worth more than our house.
A call to make a reservation at the pub for the two of us to go watch the game.
A quick snoozle before heading out to go cheer for our team.
A great vibe, laughing and joking, just the two of us. Kisses stolen across the table.
The phone call.
It all changes…

We leave. He goes out to turn the car around quickly so that we are pointing to the entrance to make a quick getaway. I pay, begging the waiter to hurry up. It's an emergency.
It's raining gently.
Drive carefully, I beg. Hazard lights. High emotion, yet all feels so calm. Another panicked call. Tears. Sobs. Helplesness. Trying so hard to reassure. We’re almost there baby …

Damn! The gate won’t open! Out in the rain. Push the gate. Take one look at someone you love. Helpless. Broken. Distraught. At the end of what she can deal with. A reassuring hug. Quickly inside. Time seems to race, but all seems in slow motion.
A box of sleeping tablets swallowed.
A cold running shower. A toothbrush down her throat. I grab under her shoulders, he grabs her legs. All of us now sopping wet. I wonder if she is still alive. The dead weight under me starts slipping. I can’t make it to the door. Swap positions. I grab her legs, he grabs under her arms.
She opens her eyes. Dazed. The look of the lost and the dead. I don’t know whether or not I feel relieved. Even in this very moment, I know that the look on your face will haunt me forever. We manage to get her in the car. On her side. She has gone so thin. As ugly as the wheezing and retching sounds, it gives me some reassurance that she is still alive. Don’t you dare die on my beat. It all comes rushing back to me.
The rain belts down.

The drive to the closest hospital. Senses on overdrive. Hyper alert. Adrenaline rushing. Find the clinic. Find the entrance. Shout at the blank faces that greet me to get a stretcher. Run back inside when I see them not moving. I want to punch them. Run in to the ward. Get a stretcher myself. Push it back outside.
The rain is falling in sheets.

We are soaked. Get her inside. See that there is a competent looking doctor there. Rush back outside. Move the cars to the parking lot. Back inside. Doctors. Drips. Questions. Tears. More questions. Fill in this form. Medical Aid details. Walk outside. The adrenaline has subsided. My body starts to ache. Hot tears burn my cheeks. I squeeze his hand a little harder. He looks at me, wipes the tears away, and squeezes my hand back. Smoking outside. Questions. How can one person feel so alone and be so sad?

The rain falls persistently.
Back to casualty. Lukewarm tea with no milk. We wait. Read some magazine left in the waiting room. My eyes going over the same sentence three times, not reading, not caring, just waiting. Stable. Transfer to ward. Sighs of relief. Time to go home.

Back home, emotions rush over me like tidal waves. Memories flood back. I’ve been there. I’ve done this before. Do I look like the damn suicide patrol? I cry. I don’t sleep. I cry more. I crawl into his arms and listen to his breathing, wishing that I could crawl under his skin and be safe there from all of these memories.
The rain falls gently still.
It gets lighter.
It’s a new day.

Well blow me down with a feather!

I decided that I would do my own tax return this year, as opposed to paying my (very wonderful and competent) tax advisor to do it.

I didn't quite believe the SARS advertisement campaign that said they had simplified the process. Come on now boys, this is South Africa, where things never ever work as they should take a while to get right.

All I can say is "whoop! whoop!"

Tax return submitted Tuesday evening. Assessment received last night. I'm getting a refund, which they expect to pay me by the end of THIS WEEK!

Yeeehaaaa!

I *heart* the internet and new e-filing system.

What makes it all bearable

"And one last thing, I love Reisies Pieces."

I love every analytical thing about you, Poo Poo head.

Good Job America!

I was driving to work just after 06h00 this morning when I heard that the race for the White House had been won. Congratulations America. I hope that the Change That You Can Believe In becomes the change that you want to see. I can assure you that the rest of the world is ready for it.

I rushed the last bit of my journey, hearing Senator McCain concede defeat on the radio just as I pulled in to the office car park. I dashed upstairs, logged in, went straight to CNN, and watched the most beautiful oration by the new President elect, Barack Obama.

I am really glad that there were not too many people around the office at that time, because I sobbed like a baby! All that, and I'm not even American! I can only imagine the emotional high that the US is on as the news settles in. I remember the feeling of cautious hope I felt in 1994 here in South Africa and I am glad to be alive during these exciting times.

Enjoy the moment. The hard work lies ahead, and the proof of the key lime pie is always in the slurp-slurp.