Life happens so fast. Last Saturday night we were in Rome. This evening we are at the end of Boxing Day, having celebrated my homecoming, Christmas eve with friends, Christmas day with other friends, and much being at home with Big friendly and the small furries. We have just come back from our neighbour’s daughter’s 21st celebration, Woodstock Muslim style, which was fantastic and reminded me again how I love living right here, right now.
Already I am forgetting the sensations of Europe; winter, the bleak sun disappearing at four in the afternoon, the brisk breathy mornings, hot chocolate and pasta, foreign tongues, food, music, the lack of living space, the size of monuments, the magnificence of Michelangelo’s David, the weirdness of the Vatican, the gorgeous smell of Italian men, the style of the Parisians, history, glamour, excess, the most delicious ice cream, the collections of tourists, the souvenirs, the fewness of black people, the many crowds, the cold.
Already I am getting reused to the smell of the Atlantic, the Boxing Day braai smoke, the grumpy, hungover bergies, the strange demands for ‘Christmas box’, the shocking shlok TV programming. Already I am going everywhere in my car, I am worrying about the cricket score, I am sickened by how many stabbings, road deaths and drownings there have been.
In a week it will be 2010. I am keeping eyes and heart open for that one.