Lately I've been thinking I spend too much time in silence. In my bed and reading. Now there's a wind picking up, the tree whooshes around outside my window. Bits of conversation arrive from the street below, barely dampened by the sheeting rain. Traffic cycles by in steady streams, slowing and stopping at the light, accelerating away. The cat patters from room to room. The noisy new neighbours take their noisy dog outside. The insistent tick tick ticking of the new clock I hung in the bathroom. The kind of clock you get for three dollars is a very loud clock. All the odd noises I used to attribute to the little cat Stella, I now must admit are a conversation my apartment has with itself.
In turns I find this the most adorable thing and the most annoying thing ever. The cat pulls the pillow down from where I arrange it when I make the bed and takes a nap on it. On the one hand "bleh." I am constantly attacking the pillow with a lint roller. On the other hand, "whatever." If I were 76, I'd probably want a friggen cushion too.
Not every day, but something like it, I examine the part in my hair. It's been about four months since I embarked on the experiment to grow the dye out of my hair. In four months around two inches of natural hair colour has appeared. I am forced to conclude that my natural hair colour is fine. Will be fine, at the end of this.
I have a lot of gray hair. Maybe not a lot; more than I thought. How I feel about that is surprisingly fine. I expect to one morning look in the mirror, squint at the part, see the sparkly hair and throw an unmitigated hissy fit. But I don't.
My first gray hair arrived when I was twenty-three. I guess what I see ... isn't a bad return on ten years.
I don't know if I can grow old with grace and just let my hair turn gray. I'm not convinced I can. But I totally think Dove should be sponsoring this project. Come on, Dove - I'm trying to "free myself from beauty stereotypes" here. Help a sister out!
Monday morning I woke up possessed with the inspiration to clean out my bedroom closet. I pulled every single thing out of the closet and only put back in what I wanted to keep in there.*
I found some weird things. I found Kevin's old cell phone. I found a Blackberry charger - definitely not mine. His old film camera. A roll of biodegradable bags for picking up dog poop. Apparently this box was never unpacked in the Toronto to Hamilton move and survived two years in my closet, a perfect time capsule of January 2007.
I opened a housewarming card from Ingrid and Trennon. Inside, Ingrid's fanciful script said, "We hope your home brings you lots of happiness! It was a smart move and amazing things are going to happen for you here."
I've unearthed similar fossils before, and I've written about how shitty I felt upon being caught off-guard by them. I know even a few months ago I would have opened that card and felt bitter or pissed off. I don't know if I would have felt "sad" exactly. But I would not have been happy either. This time, something different: I grinned. Not a wry grin. A happy one.
Amazing things DID happen.
I'd love to sit here and say I would have started running, or deepened my yoga practice, or started belly dancing, or went back to school or any of the other things that have enriched my life throughout the last couple years if I'd remained married. That it was just a matter of time. I know I would never have done any of it. And I would never have had a reason to play that infamous game of squash.
Not the amazing things we thought would happen. Maybe more amazing.
* Needless to say, this has resulted in a giant pile of crap that now has no home.
I'm on vacation this week and what I've noticed when I've been out around home for walks or on my bike, is the police presence. The first day I saw two cops on horses, I was bewildered by the strangeness of it - but then I realized what was happening. They were looking for Mariam. In places cars can't go.
This is a "good" neighbourhood and I feel safe here but the perplexing circumstances of Mariam's disappearance send a shiver up my spine. So much beautiful green space in this city suddenly seems very sinister. I hope, I hope, that they do not find her in the ravine.