There’s a vanilla scent in my bathroom. Each time Aerin Lauder’s scent is in the air, I think of how this aroma sooths me in a way; it has such an appealing undertone, and yet it effects me in a way my mom’s lullaby used to‒like the voice of a person you respect and appreciate telling you “Everything’s going to be alright”. I love these unplanned moments, when things just sort of happen on their own; it can be a stroll around the centre of Trieste or a cup of coffee at seven in the evening, when I know I’m going to have a hard time falling asleep later, but the aroma is simply too inviting to resist. Life is a puzzle. I sometimes feel as though we come into this world with all the pieces ready, but then an unexpected storm, which rushes in from time to time, makes us misplace them. One of them wonders into the kitchen, the other ends up under the chair, the third found its way into the bathroom and lies right underneath the cupboard, making us wonder if we’ve lost it. But it’s still there and it always will be. Even if the puzzle has a million different pieces and every one of them, or nearly all, make up the clear blue sky, which seems so unified at first, the pieces are in our hands. To me, this is a comforting thought, and also some food for thought.
I fill my lungs to the brim with fresh summer air, which continues its way into my bloodstream. I really associate myself with summer and so it’s difficult for me to let go; it’s a time of year that I carry with me all year long, after all. It seems that now is the only time I am myself entirely, as I later on always live in an expectation of warmer days, and these always seem to end too quickly. I swore I would reduce the extent of my responsibilities, because in-between I had forgotten to live and days just passed me by, like those extreme marathon runners, barely even touching me in passing. I hate the crazy tempo that leaves me breathless and often senseless. I have learned to let go, pass things on to others, not exactly big things, sort of small, really, but everything has its importance for something, doesn’t it? I look at a friend of mine, who is fighting his battle with a serious illness these days, and in his eyes I see what we should all be able to see: that life is too short, too fragile, and too important to bother with silly things, with people who don’t understand, with situations that take us hostage, or with emotions that keep spinning in a circle like a crazed cat. In his eyes, I sense a fear that he has missed out on everything, yet he still has the wild desire to stay. Because life belongs to him and it belongs to all of us.
I shut off more and more often. Perhaps the stillness of summer is what enchants me so much. The crickets in the evenings, the sea in the mornings, peace and quiet in my flat when I’m home alone. The small things that make me happy. Each time, I try to believe that I will wake up early in the morning to make the next day longer, but then I realise that there’s a certain charm to sound sleep, and my body is too tired these days to start “bothering” it at five A.M. But still…perhaps…in another lifetime, who knows, I’ll be an early bird. I say no to things that annoy me, but I still mostly only say no on the inside, to allow myself to be heard, while letting my heart and mind to be aware being that I understand; and then I don’t say it out loud, because of politeness and my “good girl” upbringing. Because that is what I was taught, that it’s easier and wiser to walk away than forcing my head through a concrete wall. Less harm, greater benefit. I love my home, I’ve missed it the last couple of days, and it feels like this love is what keeps me so alive and strong. A big collection of objects and things that touched my heart, that are here to make me happy. Rituals. Scents. White colour. Lots of beauty. Words, memories, Sofia as a toddler, running around the flat. Flashbacks that stop me in my tracks in the middle of winter like an ice-cold slap reminding me that all that really matters is the here and now.
What speed am I living at these days? I’d call it vacation speed. Slow, sensible, fragile, quiet. I start gliding and I stop myself again. I hit the bottom and rise to the top time and time again, there’s a rainbow after the rain that I thought would never stop falling.
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