#59 what a ride
Hi there, after what feels like forever, Marn here.
I’ve resisted communication, despite pushing myself to press send at least every 2 weeks. Every time I put my fingers on the keys, the words retreat and the cursor flashes on a blank page. After the everything that happened in the last few months, I’ve lost some, gained some. I’ve yet to regain a sense of freedom to speak my mind, or perhaps I’ll first need to find it.
A few months ago, I came to Australia for family matter. Due to covid, I’ve yet to return to Singapore.
Last month, yip and I moved into a new place for just the two of us. We left most beakies in Singapore. So I went to the print shop.
Magpies own the streets but don’t seem to like our front yard. So I made my own.
which is still unable to fly.
Then, this.
which swallowed a bathrobe and a pair of jeans and is still nothing more than a very heavy door stopper
We came to Australia in a panic, with little more than what our backpacks could fit. Since I started making, I agonised over whether to use an old top for keeping warm or for new beakies.
Yesterday, I shortened my personal charity shop finds to place that burgundy patch on its body. I knew I had to ask for help.
Last night I posted a request for unusable clothes on a local fb group. I told them they will become beakies.
This morning, I received 3 bags of clothes at my front door.
And then another in the afternoon.
I am thankful. I am humbled. I used a purple top from the donation, and created a Goldilocks situation.
Too big
Too small
Or just right?
The confidence that fabric will come freed me. The fear of loss shackled me.
I will keep asking, so I can keep going.
Yip says my cooking tastes good again.
We’re eating and sleeping again.
Beakies are coming again.
Life takes us for a ride again and again.
Talk to you again, next week. Pinky deal. marn