Unique Flourishing

She floats into her flat;

structured and organised chaos greets me in the bedroom.

With a wardrobe bigger than my London room, her clothes line the walls and the floors.

A collage of pictures and remembrances from home, she appears to have it all under control.

The endless beeping of her phone assures me her social sphere is extensive;

never a dull moment in her day.

The empty pantry and fridge concerns my slightly,

yet her aggravation of flatmate food sharing eases my worries.

We lie there and chat about everything and nothing,

bouncing of each other like in the old days.

Things have changed, yet they haven't all the same -

a comforting memory for me to hold onto.

We lounge at the beach, drink coffee at vineyard and have wines at roccos;

a sample of what life would be life.

"Just move here already" she says -

half sarcastic, half serious.

I could and would be so content.

Living in the same city as my sister, now as adults, would be so easy.

But in the same breath she reassures me that I need to go back,

I've got the ticket and it's exciting.

There is plenty of time for Melbourne living and sisterly naughtiness.

Right now it's her time in this city... flourishing in her own unique way.

need

I need to be able to return without you and not long for your touch.

I need the strength to be fine on my own and not need your company.

I need to not miss you and have a clear head for the day.

I need to feel no guilt when looking at someone, or chatting innocently to a man.

I need to go back to London with all my exciting adventures in mind.

I need to not analyse and think about you all the time.

I need to let it unfold and have faith in what will be.

Despite all these things that I need, I can't rely on any of them.

Right now, what I need is you.

To be here.

To not worry.

To enjoy it.

I just need you.

Object of Delusion

The right to lay at the beach in your bikini, absorbing the salt, sand and sunscreen.

The pleasure of nodding off whilst lightly tanning my back, head shoved in my dress as a pillow.

Reading my book in silence, without interruption or distraction from the passage that lay in front of me.

Endless hours unaccounted for - answering or catching up with nobody.

People watching around and noticing a creepy man gawking at me.

Discreetly watching him and making sure he's in my sight - not being dodgy and disgusting.

Watching him walk away and mouth 'I want to fuck you'

an instant skin crawling reaction and desire to vomit.

In a moment feeling violated and filthy, a need to hide underneath my towel.

Apparently the right to do all of the above things and be respected as a female

and a member of the public is impossible to ask.

Bikini = eye candy.

Voluptuous = sick fantasy for creepy old man.

What a toss.

What a pathetic excuse for a person.

I stay and push it from my mind,

refusing to be an object of his delusion.

Emotional disarray

Adjusting to change,

trying to fit in.

Catching up with real friends,

moving on from those that aren't.

Enjoying home and the comfort it brings,

drinks on the balcony,

laughs with dad.

The sanctuary of my old room.

Knee deep in the creek,

the ocean breeze heavenly on my face.

The sound of the valley birds,

and the smell of summer rain.

Fifteen days left of this security,

and I leave again.

Finding the strength for goodbyes,

reminding myself why I am going back.

A phone call to London,

a text from a dear friend...

I do have a place there...

a reason to return.

Belonging nowhere;

yet in both places feeling at home.

Torn between two contrasting countries,

trying to see which one fits best.

So confused and sad,

excited and energised to return.

Emotions in disarray.

Numb

I sit across the table from her and nervously hold my mug.

Our relationship so forced and strained, neither of us appear to have any words that would ease the tension.

She tells me about her illness, and I listen with trepidation, yet some strange sense of pride - she's a fighter.

Always has been... her most admirable quality.

It's very calculated, a recap of the past year - her turn, then mine.

A quick summary for me, being weary of sharing too much that could later be used against me.

I watch the clock and have regular check-ins with myself; 20 minutes left... you're ok... you can do this.

When time has ran out, there are also no more words to say.

A polite gesture of another catch up, an awkward family Christmas refusal and I am saying goodbye.

I give her a hug and walk away...feeling numb.

The drive to see a friend seems to whirl past with time not really moving,

her comforting arms and reassurances exactly what I need.

I feel nothing.

A title... an obligation...

I feel nothing. Confusion. Slight anger.

Numb.

Done.

For now.

summer rain

a window without rain and the runners are on,

5 minutes to the beach feels simply too long.

the pavement laid out in front of me,

the steam rising from it

i feel like this is the summer i have been missing.

the ocean restless with fresh rain,

the colour not so appealing for swimmers.

the usual run made delightful by the appearance of the sun,

i slow to a walk to enjoy the moments completely.

smiling and greeting the passers by,

something so Australian that I have dearly missed.

we laugh about making the most of the day,

what a novelty the sunshine is.

quicker than i realise i'm on my way back,

and i look out to the ocean.

the looming dark cloud seems far away,

but i know better and pick up the pace.

it comes in quick and fast,

not London drizzle but an absolute downpour.

i consider going faster and laugh to myself,

it's pleasant and summery,

not freezing and hard to run against.

i arrive at the car, content and exhausted,

the sweat now indistinguishable from the rain.

the cloud now right above me,

i know that this is how it will be for the rest of the afternoon.

although annoyed and missing the sun,

there is something so soothing about the rain.

the noise it makes on the trees,

the smell on the cut grass.

Australia rain ...I love it.

putting it out there.

In the last ten years, I have rarely been single. Blessed in my ability to meet men who are caring, compassionate, wonderful people - the relationships have lasted nothing less than a few years. So as you can imagine, the last year has been a crazy lesson in love.

The games men play, the art of dating, playing hard to get, being honest - yet allusive to still be interesting... the crave for affection and intimacy clouding judgement. Wow, I realised how out of practice and how shit at it I really am. Trying not to analyse everything, yet it taking up far too much space in my creative head, I decided that I was going to have to leave it up to fate - try not to worry about it, or find it. Let it come to me if that was what was destined for me.

So my trip to Australia was full of relaxing, seeing family and friends and soaking up the warm (yet wet) weather! To my complete surprise, one afternoon whilst watching the surf, I realised what my problem is. Despite all these amazing men, each one has had some point - chosen to leave me.... to explore other women, opportunities, testing our relationship, countries or work - they have all consciously decided to not be with me. So I ask myself, is it any wonder that I think I am not worth the chase? That even if I 'find' someone, they will ultimately decide the same?!

This thought is illogical and ridiculous - looking at it now on paper just makes me laugh. It's an observation, not a destiny or a reality... but interesting none the less. So what does one do with it? Live your life assuming that the next love will leave you? Or is that the fun? Finding someone and realising that they wouldn't leave your side if you made them, they would be there beside you through it all, they don't want to leave you... in fear of missing out on just being with you. I guess that is the exciting part right... putting it all into something unknown.

My epiphany about why I feel so insecure is interesting, and has provided something for me to write about. But with that, I lay it to rest.

I continue to tell myself everyday,

you are beautiful, creative and interesting... destined for great things.

Putting it out there universe - listen up!

planes dividing

an awkward reunion,

a few beers at the club.

conversation flows freely,

and the shields are down.

hours of talking,

catching up on stolen time.

a look that says it all,

a kiss that was long forgotten.

succumbing to the moment,

not thinking about the rest.

your touch awakening me,

your honesty and words refreshing.

a morning dash not even an option,

'benny', bed and cuddles on the priority list.

another evening of looks and security,

your arms wrapped around me such bliss.

planes that divide us,

weeks now counting down.

this addictive feeling almost a dream,

needing you here to remind me that for now,

the unfathomable thoughts beyond Christmas are not worthy.

but right now, it's worth every moment.

intrinsic connection

The sound of the lawn mower breaking the natural silence.

A warm breeze gently passing through the car window.

Seat reclined, I close my eyes in the afternoon sun,

taking a moment to reflect on this surreal moment...

in my birth town of Mackay.

Known only to be the place where my Granny lives and my dad has his first pharmacy,

it's never really held much significance or meaning to me.

But this trip is different.

A year has passed since seeing my shrinking comical Gran,

and although it's exciting - there is something unique this time.

My Dad and I sit across the table eating lunch,

passing sideway glances at each other when we acknowledge our common quirky ways...

three generations on.

A father and daughter road trip intrigues me as we head off in a direction unknown.

Arriving at Esplenade Road, I see my parents first house -

the waterfront shack where as a babe I once crawled.

Stories of sailing on the water, beers on the porch and purple furniture creates images of a family that once was long ago.

I walk along the dunes, taking in the smell of mangroves and the sea,

Slade point now a place of family and memories.

We head off in another direction and I am baffled where could be next.

Up a narrow drive and heading towards what looks like green pastures,

I realise it is a resting place for those passed on.

We walk in silence up through the headstones and plaques,

till we come to one I recognise.

Although only 9 when Grandad passed away,

stories about frogs, smoko and a charming smile are still present.

Touched to be there and bringing on emotion from both of us,

we chat about life when he was with us -

and the gap that is clearly still there for dad with him gone.

Driving down the main street, dad talks about his business.

It took time away from us kids growing up,

yet has provided a future for us and a legacy for him.

From nothing to something, he reminds me that anything is possible.

The title of a 'teacher' not restrictive, but rather a platform for future growth.

We arrive back home and my aunty with her daughter are there,

another generation who I am intrinsically linked to and similar in so many ways.

We eat dinner and talk about 'the daily news' with my 5 year old cousin,

it is so lovely to be here.

In one room, so many stories - my history and my family.

A trip like no other, a reconnection with myself...

after time away in London, so badly needed and deserved.

winter war

they walk with the most gracious ease, ignoring the pelting rain.

their suit pants remain dry, hiding under their shelter at just the right angle.

they keep up the pace with the rest of the crowd, oblivious to the chaos around them.

their umbrella's quickly put down through the tunnel, and popped up outdoors;

this is a regular day for them.

i stand on the platform, saturated from head to toe.

my umbrella flaps about the wind, completely unproductive to cover me from the rain.

my boots are soaked through, clearly not compliant with the 'waterproof' label I bought them for.

i poke people in the arm whilst trying to put down my umbrella

and manage to get caught in it trying to put it up.

i look like a moron incapable of dealing with this hideous weather,

clearly not accustomed to a cyclone every morning.

i laugh and squeal like a child, wanting to jump in the puddles that line the 'non guttered' roads.

it's mental and constant - the usual weather pattern of london winter.

i am a novice and that's ok...because I know that this time next week,

i'll be in Australian sunshine again.

attention to detail

it feels like so long ago since i last saw your face.

and although i think about you often, i am beginning to forget the important things.

once upon a time, you were such a presence in my life;

your swagger towards the group, feet slight turned in.

your brimming smile, almost too big to concentrate.

your hairiness - everywhere, that we often used to joke about, yet you were so proud of.

your contradictory laugh, an unexpected giggle compared to the 'manly man' you were.

the way you would protect us girls, giving advice on men and dating when we couldn't understand the way they worked.

the reassurance you would give me that I would find somebody else who would appreciate me for who I was.

your drinking binges at my house, often ending in passing out in some mysterious location we would never know about.

until the next morning.... when we would realise you were curled up somewhere random; a sauner, under the bunk beds, behind the couch... in the cupboard. what i would give to find you somewhere odd again.

the years are rolling by, and i can't help but think where you would be right now.

we are all scattered around the world, different stages in our lives.

babies and husbands for some, travelling for others, living life by the surf or the city...

and you remain that constant age, stationary in our memories.

time makes them fade however, and now i would give anything for just five minutes again.

i need to refresh them and remind myself of the important details, the things that i never want to forget...

yet seem to be because of - what i'm not sure.

so i think of you today, as i do every other day, and remember that last time.

your swagger and your giggle, your hesitant cuddle goodbye...

i replay them, paying extra attention to detail, hoping for them to be stronger next year.

A vineyard in Prague

The sun peaks through the trees, turning the leaves of the vines a translucent shade of green.

The castle walls and cathedral a lurking shadow over the grounds,

and yet holds some sort of majestic presence.

I sit here, closing my eyes and soaking in the sunshine...

a glass of local wine the only thing that is bringing me out of my travelling trance.

The castle grounds overlook the city and I sit in awe of the terracotta coloured rooftops.

Their sophisticated architecture seems surreal, too perfect for a town to exist within.

I could sit here for hours watching the stillness of the town and listening to the Italians prattling beside me.

'Allora' they say, and I immediately grin.

Unfortunately, the Czech dialect is completely uninterpretable to me,

so the Italian that I can vaguely understand reminds me that I am somewhere foreign.

The sun gradually descends, as do the tourists heading back to their hotel rooms.

I stay a little longer, uninhibited by time or place, and have another glass of wine.

I drink in every moment, the castle vineyard too magnetic to want to leave.

A shared hidden moment.

She stands close to him,

supported by his strong embrace.

He barely lets her beyond his reach,

fear of losing her for just mere seconds...

an unfathomable concept.

He whispers in her ear and she smiles,

nodding in reassurance.

He gently kisses her cheek and neck;

suggesting more than just an afternoon cuddle.

This goes on for minutes and they are oblivious to those around them.

Together, they are in their own intertwined world.

His hands caress her hair and work their way to her waist,

pulling her in closer so can feel him.

It's a private moment, yet I can't help but stare -

hungry for it myself and trying to remember what it's like.

Delicious. Intense. Desperate. Devine. Passionate. Longing.

The list of adjectives are endless...

how many ways to describe the excitement of intimacy and knowing...

dreaming about everything that comes after that secret kiss.

indulgence

I always indulge on my first night in a foreign land.

It's like a congratulatory dinner to myself for doing it on my own.

So despite actually knowing that I am getting ripped off,

or not necessarily the best of quality...

I do it regardless.

I allow the locals to take advantage of my innocent gaze;

opening my wallet to their greedy fingertips.

But in exchange, I allow myself to sit in the middle of the Old Town in Prague,

amongst the centre of it all, and watch the world go by.

Naturally, people gawk and smile sympathetically at the women sitting alone in the window.

She sits there,

in this magical place, drinking wine on her own and they pity me.

Yet I am the one who looks sympathetically at them.

Stressed about the price of food and in a potentially strained situation,

I am free from cumbersome situations.

Free to stay... indulge.

Eat and drink - do whatever I want.

And you know what?

It is truly worth ever over priced penny!

The Package

The time in between is plaguing my thoughts,

and now my eyes scan down.

The bulk, the look...

the zip or not?

Is it possible to think this way?

My tour guide does nothing to suppress the craving -

allusions of being well endowed makes me less than interested in the history he is trying to teach me.

He jokes about taking phone numbers instead of tips,

and I can't help but wanting to suggest something else.

A mixed dorm.... a terrible idea.

I now no longer really care.

Once a face, or a personality...

now just a glance at the package and I am miles away.

Driven mad by my own imagination.

Bearing Battles

The feeling confusing, of mixed affection and fear.

The excitement of the unknown, of a land so foreign to me.

Yet when here, where I am again alone and english not a certainty,

I wander around aimlessly unsure of where to start.

How to order a meal in another language?

Navigating my way through a city riddled with tourist traps and unexplored passages...

How to find my way back to the hostel without getting terribly lost?

These thoughts are constant.

Most importantly, how to feel excited about venturing out on my own,

sharing the experience with no one but myself, when I just love chatting so much?

Finding my bearings takes only a short while, but I still feel cautious and apprehensive.

Such a muddle of thoughts, I endeavour to not spent another second thinking about it.

I know myself, and what I am capable of...

just need to find the switch.

From survival in a city - to enjoying the city solo.

Market Square Magic

So I explored today, rain seeping into my withered leathered boots.

Two hostel stops for a sock change and hoping to meet another single traveller to tag along with, I spent the day on my own.

Now familiar with the old town,

I find myself in my room wondering what to do next.

The Market Square bustles before me and the lights slowly twinkle on.

I achieved my goal today, booking my sleeper train to Prague...

but I am thinking... now what? It's 9:30pm, and I am at a loss as to how to occupy the time before I can legitimately go to sleep.

Strolling into a bar and trying Poland's finest vodka seems like an alluring idea,

yet a little odd at the same time. I'm sure alcoholism starts this way?!

Flashes from tourists cameras are seen in the distance,

and I am taken away from that idea.

I simply smile at the beauty of this little place.

Get amongst it Deanna,

go and wander and you are bound to find something.

Even if you don't understand a word they are saying;

you've got your book, your writing, a potential vodka cocktail and you are in Krakow -

so it doesn't matter if your doing it solo anyway.

one night a barman saved my night!

Cautiously I walk into the jostling pub, trembling underneath my confident facade.

I stride up to the bar, pretending I have done it several times before and am not embarrassed about being alone.

'One pint of Guinness thanks', I smile and request from the barman.

120 seconds to serve the beverage, the only information retained from the brewery trip, is now flashing in my mind.

Two minutes to stand here and look busy... scout the surroundings.

Breathe, I tell myself, you're all good.

Finally the pint arrives, along with some friendly conversation from the barman.

A local Dubliner, we get to the part about who I'm with, of which I say 'solo'.

With a cheeky smile, eyes that dance like magic and an accent of joyful melody he says;

'Ah las, you'll be married with one on the way by the end of the night... don't you worry!'

I laugh and stand there nervously, unsure of my next move.

'Take a seat and stick with me love, it would be a pleasure'.

Relieved, I sit and drink the Guinness too quickly.

In between serving, we talk about Dublin and the characters it has.

The band comes on, local folk tunes their only repertoire,

and before long I am dancing some Irish jig with the crowd.

The barman is my mate for the night and checks on me in between pours.

He smilies and claps as I mix with the locals, 'becoming one of us' he shouts gleefully.

By the end of the night, I am contently merry and all danced out.

I give my saviour a cuddle before I leave and head back to the hostel.

An evening started so unsure, yet ending in travellers bliss,

I proudly know I can do this.

Guinness in one hand and my 'gift of the gab' in the other,

I can walk into a pub on my own... and leave with friends.

energy transfer

the dread of the return,

the pain of the familiar.

the monotony of each day

and the bane of the lonely existence.

escaping to the city highlights the pockets of unhappiness in my life.

it's not so bad, there are good elements as well.

but when surrounded by appeal, the excitement and life of New York,

one can't help but feel lost -

sad to not be living in it, part of it.

i find myself contemplating how I can make my experience in London the same,

with the same energy and passion that these people have.

the answer remains absent,

but I can't help but think it's within myself.

a choice...a decision that i must make,

to create opportunities that are out there.

to find the energy that is brimming underneath the surface,

just waiting for me to unravel it.

beloved

I feel you and I have become reacquainted again, for some mysterious reason.

Once you were merely a necessity, an obligation which at times I found quite frustrating.

You would beckon me and I would reluctantly come, not yet finished having time on my own.

You would engulf me in your comforting ways, making it a strain to want to leave you again.

You had this manipulative way about you, easing my troubles and creating new moments in my eye lids.

Together we would spend hours embracing, using each other for support and comfort.

But our time would end and the ritual would start again.

Things have changed now, and I find myself longing for you and hesitant to leave when I'm with you.

I immerse myself in all your glory, the smooth nature of your exterior such a luring snuggling factor.

I now spend extra hours with you, not wanting to leave in the lurking hours of the morning.

Despite the restless flickers and odd hours of wakening, you are consistent and reliable...

exactly what I need right now.

So tonight I tuck myself in again to your welcoming arms and sigh with relief.

Tonight I will be in the centre and you will have no complaints.

I will edge down into your warming comforter and feel safe.

Together, you and I are a perfect match.

Without you, my beloved bed...

I would be completely lost.

the truck man

Second day back at school and the whole of London is brewing.

The kids are pissed off being back, the excitement of catching up with friends having quickly worn off. The staff, not many were excited in the first place - 6 weeks off and then.... how do I teach again? To top matters off, the tube staff are disgruntled about their pay, so have decided to strike through 3 London peack hours to prove a point. Doesn't affect me directly as I am a train hobbit, but my goodness... the catastrophe!

The cars are back up for miles, the escorted bike guides are outnumbered by novice cyclists trying to get to work and people are pushing each other out of the way to get on the train. Am I setting the scene appropriately? Needless to say, when I have to behaviour manage 40 out of a 50 minute lesson of year 8 drama, I found it fitting to join the rest of the city and be pissed off.

The school day ends and I am out that door at 10 past 3, so glad to see it pass behind me. As I walk up to cross the road, a truck pulls over on the curb and blocks my view of the oncoming traffic. Great! Thanks mate - now I am really mad! I try to edge my way forward, only having to jump back as a car zooms past. Shit, how am I going to negotiate this cranky, peak hour traffic?

To my astonishment, the truck driver jumps out and stands outside his car. He then walks into the middle of the road, in the path of oncoming traffic, slows the cars down and waves me across the road.

'You're a darling... thank you!' I shout whilst scurrying across the road.

He smiles and jumps back in his truck, waiting patiently for what I don't know.

How one person can change your day, without even knowing it.

Was thank you enough? Did he realise that it made me grin for the rest of the afternoon?

Just that one small gesture... can make such a difference.