Planting seeds for the unknown

Deep thoughts rolling in. Cold breezes too.

Autumn is in the air. Secretly I give out a sigh of relief. This summer wasn’t mine anyway. I had my year in the sun and this summer was a transmission. I was born in autumn and every autumn feels like a return. I’ll be comfortable again, in a thick wool cardigan and soft knitted socks. And my red, red coat.

I’m sorry. Am I spoiling all the fun? I know how much you love the picnics in the park and the street smart city shorts and sunnies. I’ve had some good times (already speaking in past tense, this is getting worse) and just a few hours ago I was gazing out over a sunset splendid Stockholm, from the cliffs of Södermalm and while taking a two hours walk along the shoreline and across the bridges with my friend Emma, it hit me over and over again, how beautiful this city really is. But I can’t wait to leave.

I have some travelling to do next year. Don’t know when. Don’t know where or how or with whom, but I have a feeling it is significant.

I need to move because more than ever I sense the lack of belonging and the people that I rely on are moving along their own islands.

Lorena just got back to Cape Town and sent me a text. A few hours later Lina called me to tell me she is pregnant. While my dad is getting organized to do volunteering work in South Africa, my eighteen year old sister turns to me and asks what is more important; her friends or her relationship? I tell her it’s all equally important, a reckoning of how she relates to other people, and to herself. The thoughts and feelings she implants. She asked me how many friends I have and I said they can’t be numbered. They are spread out all over time and memory. And the world.

So when the sun rises over the Kalahari, I am not there to wave hello, but in my spirit I am at all place at the same time.

And I hold out my arms for those that need it and laugh when a good friend tells a joke and I tolerantly caress a loved one’s cheek when he sleeps and I whisper thank you to all those that have crossed my path – and to those that will.

I might be budding in circles but at least I am unfolding.