I'm planning on attempting to record some stories from the past 11 years or so. It has been a mixed experience so far and I get the sense it will be a massive challenge. Painful and jubilant, but also grinding at times.
It feels like a valuable thing to me, and as I was reflecting this week I feel really good about having it as a task to build my time around.
I'm currently working on the beginning of 2009 and I thought I might share this little bit with you. It makes me feel good about our girl Stacy. A little easier to remember and feel her presence with some words that might have come from her.
Boxing class started the next week and Stacy got stuck right in. Stacy would meet Leila and the group in the parklands and training would last for an hour. Running, punching, squats, running, sit ups, punching, holding pads, punching pads, running, etc.
The first time Stacy came home she looked like she had be rung loose after an hour in a washing machine. Her face and body were stretched and squeezed, hot and dripping. She sat on the couch and went quiet for a while, quiet.
‘Good session Stace?’ I proffered with a grin.
‘Oh my God!’
‘Really? What’s the story at boxing Muncher?’ enquired her strangely pleased husband.
‘Oh my God Mike, my arms! I don’t think I can hold them up anymore. It was hard to drive home’ she said dramatically.
Having opened the flood gates her description flowed. ‘then you have to run around the…you just have to keep punching the pad until…and there are so many stairs...the thing is Mike, that you don’t stop until everyone is done.’ She recounted the session and basked in the effort and the obstacle.
‘It is great to see you so pumped up and also so worn out Stace. Go and have a shower and lets eat’ I prompted.
‘I am so hungry, I want a bowl as big as my head’ she threw over her shoulder, closely followed by her shirt as she headed down the hall. The shirt landed with a slap. Training had begun.
It has been coming for a while, a post about being home.
Before I left, and at times during the trip away I experienced a feeling of trepidation about returning to Brisbane and more specifically returning to life outside of fantasy.
Finding a job, driving around the neighbourhood, walking the dogs down familiar paths, cooking dinner - for one, visiting friends, Christmas and birthdays. These regular parts of life hold both a simple enjoyment and in part a haunting parody of those same activities in another time.
Towards the end of my travels as I began to look towards returning from a most satisfying adventure, it was natural to consider what it would be like to be home. The reality has been that life here in Brisbane is much the same as life anywhere, challenge and opportunity.
Generally I've had a really great time since I've been back home. When I say back home I mean broadly Australia and Brisbane but also specifically Victoria St with Mum and Dad. It has been really nice to spend time here with the folks, we had a bit of sharing and mutual mourning to do.
In other areas I've sold a few Barbecues, taught a few lessons at school, thrown a few frisbees, scratched a few words out with the keyboard and spent some time with friends.
The plan from here is to follow the pattern of the last few weeks however to follow it in the nation's capital. I'm going to head down there in the first week of January and attempt to delve into recent history through some writing while I delve into the future with some running, and catching (Frisbees).
I feel very hopeful about the planned events of the new year and I'm confident I will continue to enjoy spending time here at home.