Letter From The other Side from Cynthia

Dear Del,

We are well along with our packing.

I think if Teddy stood still too long contemplating some knotty problem his mind is working on, I would have him wrapped in bubble wrap very quickly.

The house is gradually being placed in boxes which in turn are filling up the spare rooms that used to be Teddy’s studio and our spare bedroom. Most of them are large and look as if they are is readiness for one of the building sites for a pyramid. Some feel almost as heavy.

The rooms are losing the personality our belongings gave them and as we walk around or call out to one another there is the beginning of a faint echoing because the sounds, once absorbed by furnishings, now bounce unmuffled from the bare walls.

Now the initial excitement has turned into the busy preparation time. Lists of people and utility companies we must contact regarding our new address etc are being made and we have reached the very middle of the packing and leaving phase.

We are still happy to be going, but as we take things apart and remove them from the places they have been for a few years there is a small part of us which, when we look around at the empty spaces where photographs, favourite knick–knacks or books have been, there is an odd feeling of discomfort. It is hard to describe but it is a vague sense of disloyalty toward the house. After all, this is the place which has given us shelter and pleasure as we turned it and the arid gardens into our idea of a haven.

We know the next occupant loves the look of it and thinks the gardens, once so empty of birds and greenery and now so full of both, loves what we have done. However we can’t prevent ourselves from wondering if she will appreciate the thought, planning and toil which went into creating it or will she just accept what she is paying for and take it all for granted.

We have some work ahead of us in our future home but not as much as we faced here.

I suppose we can only hope that in a few years we will look around our next place and feel the same sense of achievement.

As I write, Teddy is out cycling along the river and gaining a little normality time.

I suspect Kevin Rudd our former prime minister may be doing something similar. At least we have enjoyed the luxury of being able to make our own decisions. The blood sport of politics in Australia has certainly outranked the interest in soccer this week.

We have enjoyed a few outings with people we have hardly seen since our return and who are now I suspect, realizing they haven’t been in touch for some time.

Others, the type of old acquaintance who says vaguely, ‘Oh we must meet up for a coffee before you go,’ we don’t find time for.

We understand that as we age the lives of friends drift apart onto differing avenues and interests. Some of ours who don’t really know us well cannot understand our need to move so far away from our family. I suspect that is simply because it would be the last thing they would contemplate. Many familles have a very strong need to feel they belong to a clan.

Teddy and I began the story of our lives meeting in a city far from both our homes and families. He arrived on Australian shores alone and I had arrived a thousand of miles away from my southern home in Victoria in Brisbane, alone.

The adventure of our lives together began there and we feel we still have other chapters to live, together, in our favourite place.

We are sensitive to the fact our decision will not only alter our story as it was being played out these past few years, but it will also alter the life stories of our children and grandchildren.

We don’t expect regrets or recriminations from any of them or from one another other. It really just means that on our final days on earth, there will be a different ending.

It is late at night Del. There is a clear sky and a full moon so bright the street lights of our road are almost unnecessary.

To-morrow will come quickly with more people to contact and things to pack.

My mother once told me to enjoy your life you must always have something to look forward to, no matter how trifling it may seem to others it will give you reasons to look forward and not back.

From the head of the packing department,

Your ‘flower child’ friend,

Cynthia