At the beach with D & A
"How did it feel coming back to Hillsborough?" asked my flatmate, as I was driving her home from the airport last night. I thought for a second before saying, "It felt like coming back to reality, I guess." My flatmate gave a laugh of surprise. "Okaaaayyyy..." "No, no, I don't mean that in a bad way, necessarily. I just switched into task mode and did jobs and will be returning to work. And that's good - I love work! It's just different."
It is different. I ticked off all the things on my to-do list yesterday and felt good about it, but I can already feel anxiety about the year creeping back in.
Later, the three of us whose rooms are downstairs congregated in the hallway to chat about our holidays. One had been offered a place to read Theology at Oxford in October. The other had unexpectedly (but happily) gotten engaged on Boxing Day and was in the thick of trying to find and book a venue. They shared details of their big updates and I listened, half sitting, half-leaning against the stairs as they spoke. "Do you have any big news to share with us, Jovita?" one of them asked, turning towards me. "You recovered from Covid" the other interjected, quickly. "Yeah, and I have cool pyjamas" I joked, lamely, referencing a discussion the three of us had had earlier. Indeed. A recovery from Covid and cool pyjamas is about all the exciting news that my year has held so far.
I think very often about the smallness of my life. I'm not carrying out life-saving work, I don't possess a highly-specialised skillset, I'm not in a profession that causes eyebrows to be raised into impressed looks. At the end of the day, no-one is waiting up for me at home, or depending on me for love and sustenance. I can move invisibly through most days, scurrying, rather than gliding as a friend once pointed out to me. Some days, the insignificance of my life has left me wondering what the point of getting out of bed is.
But, in the spirit of my unofficial word for the year, I'm trying not to do that anymore. I'm trying to trust that the small contributions I make matter, somehow. The short prayers for people I love, the listening, the teaching tiny humans to the best of my ability - it matters. It isn't exciting or glamorous, but to do "small things with great love" as Mother Teresa once said, matters. I'm keeping that in mind as I move through this week's end and the new week ahead.
One small thing at a time - it all matters.
Reading: I picked up a massive haul of books in Christchurch and am happily working my way through them. I've just picked up We Have Always Lived in the Castle by Shirley Jackson. It's ostensibly a horror novel, so a far cry from my usual reading, but I'm thoroughly enjoying it so far. Merricat is an engaging narrator and the sense of dread about things that have happened and will happen in this family is palpable from the first page.
Watching: I got my little brother hooked on Law and Order! "I love McCoy," he said happily one evening, limbs akimbo on the couch. Me, too, little bro - me, too. Unfortunately Law and Order has now been withdrawn from Amazon Prime (Decision makers at Amazon - why???), so I shall have to settle for old episodes of its spin-off Law and Order: SVU, in addition to some of the wonderful films on there (I'm looking at you, Palm Springs & Marcel the Shell).
Eating: Lunettes. *Happy sigh* My mum remembered how much I loved these and went to the Village Bakehouse on three separate occasions to get them for me, bless her. I am always so happy to be reacquainted with these brioche-y custard-y treats.
Trying: I went for a swim at the beach! My friend, A, loves beach swims and is leaving NZ very soon, so I promised to join her for one before she goes. The mud was squelchy and the water still too cold for my taste, but let the record show that I did indeed swim and now I don't have to until another friend leaves the country.
Happy Saturday, friends - hope it's a joy-filled one for you all. x
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