I have to plant the seeds I found in the park yesterday. I will plant the seeds and they will symbolise my old memories, my roots. Now that I have new foundations I want my old memories to grow with me. I do not want them to be forgotten.
Along with these old memories, of mom, aunt Geraldine, dear Jefferson, Evangeline, the little twins, nanna… new memories will be planted as well. Future generations of CrinkleWinkle’s will tend this garden and remember, and in tending it they will honor those before them.
The day passes uneventfully, I go to my earlybird aerobic class, where Agnes tells me that Tamara steals boyfriends. I immediately think of Christopher… but then I remind myself that he is not my boyfriend. I go to work and at the end of the shift my boss comes and tells me that I have been promoted to a ‘Stagehand’… How cool, more opportunities to get to know more musicians.
As I run across the road to look for more seeds and dive into one of the yummie picnic baskets there, I spot a familiar figure out the corner of my eye…
Each day is a gift, sometimes one forgets that when getting caught up in the monotony of everyday life. I am reminded of something someone once said to me, “Don’t sweat the small stuff…”. Too true that.
After my hotdog, it’s time to play for tips. I run across the road to play outside the music theatre. I am pleased to notice that word of my sessions has gotten around and quite a crowd gathers around me to listen. I wonder if dear Agnes helped with that in the ‘simvine’.
It has become easier for me to engage my audience, to make them feel part of the music. It is not just me in my own world, playing for myself anymore… there are others. The man is still there of course, at that bench, but he appears to be muttering to himself. Maybe he is a lost soul.
I walk past the man as I leave, almost daring him to say something to me, to do something… anything, just to tell me what he wants…
He looks at his book as if I am not there, maybe I am just paranoid afterall.
In the early morning hours I wake up from a restless sleep. Weird distorted images of the man flood my head. I do something careless without thinking.
I sneak across the road to the house where I have seen the man come out before. The fall of my footsteps echo loudly in my head… I can hardly breathe as I creep towards the bushes on the side of the house. From the cover of a privet I stare through the leaves into the window beyond…
Filled with terror I bolt back home and dive under the covers of my bed. As if that is protection! I keep forgetting I have no walls.
But he does not come… he does not rush over and ask me why I was spying. Weariness overcomes me, maybe this is all a dream. Maybe I am dreaming that I am awake but really I am sleeping. With those confusing thoughts, darkness rushes over me again.
Later when I wake up, I am not sure if it was all a dream or if it really happened. Shivers run down my spine as I stand there on my lawn feeling naked and exposed.
I need to get out. I had heard from a “Birdie” that the spa was just the place to relax and feel rejuvinated. I book myself a deep tissue massage as well as a manicure/pedicure.
That “Birdie” sure was right. I feel so energised afterwards. The aching muscles I had earlier from my restless night are a distant memory. Perhaps I will spend every Sunday off at the spa getting special treatment in the future.
I decide to call Christopher and ask if we can meet for a late lunch. We have not seen each other in two days and I miss his company. I don’t think I will tell him about the man, he might think I am a loon. He might begin to look at me like they did in Riverview. I couldn’t bare that.
Christopher and I meet at the Bistro as usual. Across at City Hall the town folk are protesting against crime in Sunset Valley. Christopher speaks very passionately about it, he has very strong views on what should happen to thieves and other criminals. How can I ever tell him about mom now? A slight feeling of dread fills my heart, but I try not to think about it, rather enjoy this moment I tell myself.
While we are eating, Christopher tells me that Tamara Donner has been calling him alot lately…
Poor Christopher is such a goof, he does not realise she is the black widow incarnate. Men can be so gullible at times.
I make a note to mention this to Agnes when I see her at gym on Monday. Of course I act all casual about what he just told me and pretend that food went down the wrong way. The rest of the meal is filled with idle chitchat and afterwards Christopher asks me if I might play my guitar.
For some reason I am extremely nervous at the thought of playing for him. My palms become sweaty and I make excuses to freshen up in the ladies quickly. When I come outside the sun is just beginning to set, I start to play and forget the nervousness I felt earlier.