Monday, 1 August 2005 [10:30 a.m.]:
My dearest, dearest Keith –Honey, I don’t know what to say… This is the very first time in many, many months that I have cried tears for me. I’ve cried rivers of tears over you and over losing you but not for me. But this morning I laid in bed and found myself weeping. I want to know what you would do if you were in my situation and how you behave, choose and act. I don’t think you’d do what I have been doing and I think you’d behave with a bit more honour. I don’t get it.
On the face of it, the weekend was marvellous – Eagles concert, Warren’s place (more about that later), Graham and meeting Stewart. But I don’t know where to put it all in my mind. I don’t know how to reconcile it with where I am at the moment and the situation that I find Warwick and myself in.
I don’t know how to stand up for me without either being strident or acting like a victim. Warren said something to me that hurt me and I didn’t know what to say – I just turned away. It turned out that was just his sense of humour and he was teasing but I hadn’t picked up on it and I hadn’t, ‘til several minutes after (and then only because of how you had taught me to be more positive), said that he needn’t have said what he did. And he said, "Do you have to be so serious all the time?" I honestly don’t know sometimes when people are joking and when they are not – twenty-five years in this country and I still don’t "get" their sarcasm. Anyway, I feel hurt and a bit rejected and it’s not sitting very well.
But here’s some more about my trip to Warren’s. He lives in Picton, which is a ways from Sydney. After you get away from the sprawl of suburbia the land becomes more hilly – I love hilly or mountainous country so it was good just to see it from the highway – that alone was a treat. I arrived at the place where he lives just as it was growing dark so I didn’t get a good view of where I was at other than the house was at the end of a long drive lined with tall shrubs and there were paddocks with cattle all around. Warren and I went back up to a place called Campbelltown, stopping on the way at his daughter’s. She was a very, very sweet and spontaneous girl. Then Warren took me to a club for dinner, a play on the poker machines and in the lounge listening to a band. Warren’s a muso and he wasn’t altogether keen on the group and we left after the first set to return to Picton. On the way back, I saw a shooting star (I saw a wombat, too – how funny!). When we got back to his house we stood and looked awhile at the stars (in Sydney, you see about fifty or so; in Campbelltown we probably saw two hundred – in Picton there were 100s and 100s of thousands – millions – of them!) We could see the cloud-like streak of the Milky Way and I saw another shooting star. Some glittered and twinkled and with some the colours changed as you watched them. There were so many that the constellations were hard to see – lost in the vast number. Warren talked about them (he didn’t seem to think that I knew anything about them) and how he has a chair right there on the patio that he gets out to just sit and watch them. (Did that remind me of you and Don or what?)
We listened to music, he sang and showed me his guitars and I stayed overnight. In the morning it seemed like he wanted me to leave so I did. I didn’t discuss it, I didn’t ask – I just left. It was early enough (eight o’clock maybe) that the mist was still caught in the branches of the trees and I could finally see where I was. "Diamonds on the Soles of Her Shoes" came on the iPod, followed by "Take It Easy" and I sang (loudly!) all the way back to Sydney (later on in the trip ZZ Top came on). There was wattle blooming (little bright yellow spheres of blossoms on ferny grey-green foliage) along the highway – I would have picked some if there had been a safe place to stop: somewhere, I am sure, some bees thought that they were in Heaven.
I am trying to live by the code that I saw you live by but I need your help. I wish that we could talk about it; I want to see what you think. This isn’t helped by the fact that Rick is in England on holidays at the moment and I can’t bounce any ideas off him like I usually do. He’s my best mate (in the Australian sense!) and I miss him.
You take care, Keith, and know that I love you. I haven’t been missing you as much as I did – I guess ‘cuz there is so much going on at the moment. But you are never, ever very far from my thoughts. I know that we should have hooked up – you never got to know me like you should have and we both missed out in that regard. You completely conquered this Aussie’s heart.
Be well and at peace –
- love, Susan
posted by Susan @ 11:45 am
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home