Sometimes it's fun to relive it, she says, and I know she's right. I know that in time I'll get to a place where I can look back at all that has been left behind, all that was taken from me, and not be filled with sadness and sorrow, with a deep yearning to just be able to say goodbye, to explain - but how could I explain that which I am still wrapping my head around?
One day, one day, I know I will get there. Right now I simply let the conversation flow, let it naturally move to exploring her home, to discussing safe topics like camping and Oz - Oz? I ask the question back to myself, almost laughing at it. I hadn't really realised that I had shortened my homeland to Oz, and now I couldn't get the image of Dorothy skipping down the yellow brick road with her arm looped through a lion and a scarecrow - it's lucky that the snow-covered street we walk down is not yellow, or I probably would giggle out loud like an idiot.
"Camping should be approached like a recipe - all of the ingredients need to be just right to make the experience fun," I say with the air of an expert, a playful tone and arched brows emphasising certain words here and there. She speaks of a beach, of climes far warmer and sunnier than here, and once again, I am thrust into my memories, of salty water and sand, cool drinks and friends to share it with.
"Now that sounds like some place I could spend some time at," my warm tones convey, pushing past the temptation to wallow in my nostalgia (see, told you she was a bitch). I pause my words however, for we have reached our destination, and as I elbow my way through the door and allow Kia (I wonder if she'd mind me calling her that?) to pass through first, I maintain my friendly expression to simply rule in silence.
I nod towards the kitchen, greeting the landlord swiftly and emptying my many pockets, assisting Kia where I can, filling up the vegetable bucket with our plunder. Then I gently usher her back out - the cook had a temper if I lingered too long, I had discovered in the past - all the way to the front room once more, an area that is an almost-lobby, though more of a modest sitting room.
"Thank you, Kia, for your help," genuine gratitude is given - though I'm sure I would've found a solution eventually, having her assist made the task that much easier and the experience overall that much more enjoyable. "Can I get you a drink - water, mulled wine?" I ask, gesturing to the sitting area. My eyes catch on Auni, and a friendly amusement crinkles the edges of my eyes, as I (in as stealthy a way as possible) fetch another cracker from a pocket and drop it at my feet for the luxere.
One day, one day, I know I will get there. Right now I simply let the conversation flow, let it naturally move to exploring her home, to discussing safe topics like camping and Oz - Oz? I ask the question back to myself, almost laughing at it. I hadn't really realised that I had shortened my homeland to Oz, and now I couldn't get the image of Dorothy skipping down the yellow brick road with her arm looped through a lion and a scarecrow - it's lucky that the snow-covered street we walk down is not yellow, or I probably would giggle out loud like an idiot.
"Camping should be approached like a recipe - all of the ingredients need to be just right to make the experience fun," I say with the air of an expert, a playful tone and arched brows emphasising certain words here and there. She speaks of a beach, of climes far warmer and sunnier than here, and once again, I am thrust into my memories, of salty water and sand, cool drinks and friends to share it with.
"Now that sounds like some place I could spend some time at," my warm tones convey, pushing past the temptation to wallow in my nostalgia (see, told you she was a bitch). I pause my words however, for we have reached our destination, and as I elbow my way through the door and allow Kia (I wonder if she'd mind me calling her that?) to pass through first, I maintain my friendly expression to simply rule in silence.
I nod towards the kitchen, greeting the landlord swiftly and emptying my many pockets, assisting Kia where I can, filling up the vegetable bucket with our plunder. Then I gently usher her back out - the cook had a temper if I lingered too long, I had discovered in the past - all the way to the front room once more, an area that is an almost-lobby, though more of a modest sitting room.
"Thank you, Kia, for your help," genuine gratitude is given - though I'm sure I would've found a solution eventually, having her assist made the task that much easier and the experience overall that much more enjoyable. "Can I get you a drink - water, mulled wine?" I ask, gesturing to the sitting area. My eyes catch on Auni, and a friendly amusement crinkles the edges of my eyes, as I (in as stealthy a way as possible) fetch another cracker from a pocket and drop it at my feet for the luxere.
Chulane
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