Saturday, 12 September 2015


Dear Rachel,

It is typical that you would start your letters kindly. Thank you. I decided this week that from now on I will be less nice to people because it causes too many problems, but if I can find ways to grow my kindnesses then I'd be more on track.

The sensation of missing someone is, I reckon, brutal. I miss people right now. I miss my sons. People say that 'Skype is great' and I politely nod. It's not as great as being body-slammed at short notice by a seven year old genetically similar rockstar. Or the peace that comes from cuddling cheek to cheek with a nine year old so sweet and remarkable that the world is his and he doesn't even know it yet. Skype is ok at best.

I have never met your father so it is nice to hear you speak about him. He is at that inevitable time in his life which we give little thought until it rolls around and then we think of little else. My mind is on you all. Your retelling of seeing the Dunedin snow was heartwarming. Snow is just gorgeous. It comes with its issues but it is truly wonderful and those countries who don't have the pleasure, don't have the pleasure. 

It sounds like Arlo is a strong boy with so much to give. I bet he has a side so soft as well. It's a tremendous blessing to have children who need a little extra understanding because their box is too small or the wrong shape. I have two of these. It's a gift from the universe to be one of the few people who can read them - who can talk to them with just our eyes, or a handful of fingers through their hair. The moments of misunderstanding are there too but when the connections are made (like a foot in a sock) (like when you have a moment simply watching them ride a slide) I believe that might be love. 

The fractions in my friendships are still pummeling me. Not so much because I have lost two friends, but because I thought I was better at being a friend than I obviously am. It's not that they let me down (although they did) but that I didn't rise up, take the high road, fight for them, refuse to let go. I composed a text to one of them requesting we go for a coffee over the weekend but I didn't have the balls to send it. This is someone whom I have shared many hot drinks, jokes, secrets over the past year. We would smile when we saw each other. We are now a pile of crumbs at Pigeon Park. Truth is, I am saddened. Disheartened that I didn't even try to work it out. Dejected that they didn't call, either. It's a heavy coat, this stubbornness and apathy.

I really enjoyed the exchanges I had with a girl I met while drinking grapefruit and somekindofberry juice today. We've been to a few of the same countries and she is more than thirty years old. I made a dangerously weird joke which she laughed at even more than I did in my head as I prepared it. She kept her (possibly soft, certainly smooth) dark hair in a pony and saved her smile for my best jokes. She waved when she left and I couldn't help but notice her shorts. We'll need another meeting if we are to discuss milk although it's unlikely she's now blogging about the boy she sat by for a babble.

Transformers were wonderful toys. They sort of made the impossible possible. We may well have had one or two. My time was taken up skateboarding and even transformers would have played second fiddle. They are rather captivating and a fine example of a creative mind used for good. 

Nitagate sounds like something I'd like to hear about. I'll make no effort to work out what it is. I'd like to come in fresh with this one. 

I plan to both kayak and run tomorrow as the weather is marginally cooler and I should be able to get away from work by four. The kayaking is murder. It hurts and I am disastrously slow. If it weren't for the egrets and the low, pink sun there would be little to redeem it to me. 

Keep in touch and enjoy those dear people you live with.


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