Notes from an Autumn Week
The coldness creeps in
How wondrous; the cold creeps in. We’re up before dawn in the morning, and I sit on the couch and fix my daughter's cereal and television. I have coffee (hot, black) and let the spine of my paperback fall home in my fingers. And by the time I turn around and face the window outside, the sun had revealed the day. The clouds press in, blanketing the yard in white. The grass is silver in the gleaming light, each blade fixed with a wet crown.
Two mornings, I drive up the Warrego, West. And the clouds act as curtains on the mountainscape, slowly revealing the hollows and rises, and eventually the spire: Toowoomba, home, like a ragged, old, bad dream.
We planted carrots from seed a little while ago, and now it’s time to harvest. The girls are giddy with excitement. They pull them from the ground, assemble them in a dirty pile, and then wash them.
They are not shaped like carrots, and it’s not until Ellie reads the label that we learn they are ‘roly poly’ carrots - meant to be radish-sized.
I’m not present for the harvesting, and I’m envious. Instead, I find the pile of carrots. Orange and black with dirt, perhaps sketched by Quentin Blake - an assemblage of strange, elderly flaccid penises.
Nurturing adult friendships is a muscle that atrophies without attention. It takes conscious effort, but I have tried to innoculate myself against middle-aged loneliness by committing to small catch-ups.
Eight minutes is all it takes, by the way. You may have heard - the New York Times wrote about it, and it’s become one of those pop psychology ideas - but a study found that regular phone calls can demolish loneliness and drastically improve lifestyle measures. The phone calls needn’t be filled with counselling or wise advice. People need to feel heard. And they only need eight minutes.
The first is chicken wrap on Monday. She’s got a new job, a big change coming. Career pivot.
The next is poached eggs and coffee. They’re renovating a house, and his fingers are flecked with white paint.
The third is a home-cooked meal, beautiful in its simplicity and warmth. She has been through a tragedy but she is resilient and optimistic.
The fourth is a McDonald’s coffee in a playground. Her life has changed dramatically too. But I am constantly surprised at the strength of people.
We have all settled into a great exhaustion. Trouble comes, but it doesn’t last. We work hard and brace ourselves against the coming winter as the sky presses in. We harvest what we’ve planted. We lean on each other. The days rattle on.
Resonate? Leave your own image of the week in the comments. Find another personal diary reflection here.