After we went to the pet store it was my turn to ride and I wanted to double back and go to a shop to buy a Kitkat before coming back home. I jumped on the front and we went off. As I came around a corner, a girl on a pushbike pulled out in front of me and I had no time, or space, to swerve. I braked as hard and fast as I could, but I still ran into her. Right into her leg.

There was nothing I could have done to prevent the accident, and I had to move off straight away as we were in the middle of the road. She was fine, didn’t even come off her bike. But as I drove off I was shaking and I called back to Max and told him I was about to cry and asked if there was anything I could have done to avoid hitting the girl. He assured me there wasn’t and when we got to the shop for Kitkats he told me to pull over on the side of the road instead of doing a u-turn myself. He then took the bike and crossed the road for us. And when I asked him to ride home he accepted easily as long as I held the lizards properly.

On the way home, Max told me how silly the girl was and assured me again that it was not my fault and there was nothing I could have done to prevent it. He also warned me when we were about to go over bumps as my bum was sore from my adventures during the day with dad on the motorbike tour.

When I was retelling the story to Jack, then Mum and finally dad, Max was with me, explaining to them as we’ll what happened on the road. He was just so supportive and sweet that I got over the shock and horror pretty quickly.

My littles brother is now twelve-and-a-half and growing taller, and sweeter each time I see him. Sure, he still fights with his brother, and sure he can still annoy the heck out of me when he wants to, but he has still got the kindest heart and has reminded me over the last few days of how much love he has for me in that kind heart if his. I am so blessed that he’s my brother.

By what? By Vietnam. By travel. By vacations and seeing my family.

I know. I feel bad that I feel this way too. But I have an explanation. You see, I’m not supposed to be here. I’m supposed to be back home finishing assignments and then getting organised to come over and in the process, getting fired up about coming. Instead what happened was so much stress from uni about coursework and assignments that I practically forgot I was coming until I got on the plane.

There was no lead-up. In fact, even with three flights, four airports and approximately 24 hours of travel, I still don’t feel like I’m all here. Why? Because my head’s not here. My head’s stuck in this last essay that I’ve got 23 hours to finish. My head’s thinking over all the things I didn’t prepare for this trip and so in my head, I haven’t left Australia yet.

I don’t want to be unexcited, nonchalant, apathetic, blasé, impassive, indifferent, and even unaffected about being in Vietnam with my family. I want to be excited and happy and exuberant and curious and present. I want to be present in this moment. That will happen tomorrow when I email this final essay off. Tomorrow I will be present. And then I will enjoy every damned second of this well earned vacation. In fact, I’ll bloody well enjoy it in the meantime too!

I walked to work in the wind, walking sideways, and I arrived with hair that had appreciated the fluffing up. I walked home in the wind, still warm despite the darkness.

That’s really something else, isn’t it? The wind in the dark, in the park as I take my shortcut home. There is something powerful about the wind, something I haven’t quite figured out yet.

Something especially mysterious about the wind at night when the invisible hides in the darkness.

—

The physical movement through space over time is propelling her forwards, towards, closer to the end.

The light danced off her fingertips and landed in her hair. She played with it.

“Can you see what I see?” She asked. “No,” I replied, “I can only see through my eyes.”

“Sometimes we move sideways,” she murmured, as if she’d forgotten I was there.

“What makes it home?” I asked. “Difference,” came her reply. “And details, memories and love.”

The blood in her veins would run like a river towards the ocean if she gave it the chance. But she knew better than that. She knew the ocean wasn’t the end.

“Well that’s just it!” She exclaimed. “Isn’t it? The circle of life and death and we all just go around and around and call it living.”

She sighed like the weight of the world had taken up residence on her shoulders. “I need a break,” she confided, “From all of this.”

“Is death the end? Or a beginning?” I asked. She lamented, “It’s just a continuation.”

She pirouetted down the hall and into the room and quoted, “But we do not have to dance.”

She took a step back, followed by a deep breath. Fear radiated from her pores.

“But you’re so far away!” I shouted. “That depends on your perspective,” came her reply.

“These days I breathe sadness,” she confessed as though it was something I should have known already.

She took care to notice the little things in life. That’s what made her different.

“Nobody sees the little things,” she explained. “They’re all looking for the mountains that face the sea.”

“When will you return?” I asked. She just glanced at me and smiled.

“Sometimes we can take our time,” she explained, “and sometimes we don’t have that luxury.”

Ah! But what’s in a glance in a moment that cannot be found again?

“You see?” She laughed. “There you go again on the same track, round and round.”

“What if you took a break from all this?” I suggested and she cried and told me it’s impossible.

“But, the night?”

She paused, turning the words over in her mind until they found the form she wanted. “The night,” she replied, “is never as dark as it seems.”

Night Poem
I wrap the night around me like an overcoat, hiding in the folds of darkness. The collar glimmers with the light of the stars and the sleeves glow soft like the moon. I bury my face behind a galaxy.

She
She fell away
Into obscurity
And out of reality.
She fell for you.

He
He has invaded my conversational speech.

Spaces
What’s down there?
In those places we pass by.
What’s down there?
Why?

Drunk
There’s a hole in the sky
Where I can see though the clouds
And I wonder who’s looking back?

There’s a tear in the armor and a crack in the shield and what can get in can get out.

I’m still not sober.

Early
Morning storms can be more invigorating than sunshine.

Wind
I
Am naked
And the wind blows around me.
Raging
And grabbing
And blowing away…

Skies
I will never tire of pastel skies.
Looking up and trying to decipher where the blue ends
And the purple begins
And how the pink in the middle is defined.

Meet Me
Meet me on the horizon between the edge of the sky and the end of the world,
I’ll be the one with the sun in her eyes and the wind in her hair.
Meet me in the dusk between the shades of pastel skies,
I’ll be the one wrapped in starlight and prayers.
Meet me on the bed between the sheets and the night,
I’ll be the one reaching out for you.
Just say you’ll meet me there.

Photo by Katiekills’ on Flickr.

This week I wanted to share some of the inspiring things I’ve read. The things that I’d like to read while curled up with a cup of peppermint tea, getting ready to take over the world!

✿ Leonie Dawson of leoniedawson.com wrote about which of her 2012 goals came true and which ones didn’t. This inspires me to fill out my 2013 workbooks and to go back over my 2012 ones to see which goals and dreams I made come true this year.

✿ Julien Smith of inoveryourhead.net wrote a list of things you should know. Some of them make me want leap out of my cozy reading nook and be amazing, some of them aren’t right for me. But that’s the great thing about lists, you can pick and choose.

✿ Alison of alidoesitherself put together this little list of DIY beauty products. I want to try making the lip balm and the deodorant.

✿ Danielle Leduc wrote for McSweeney’s an open letter to the job market, which is funny and sad and makes me glad I have a job that I like.

✿ Finally, this song by Switchfoot, Dare You To Move, never fails to inspire me. Click here to watch if you can’t see the video below.

I lean over the railing, feet tucked between the pillars, and tip my face towards the sky. The grey clouds that have filled the sky all day cover the stars like a cosmic duvet and the sky is infinitely black. Imagine standing in a space that was infinitely big, and infinitely black and filled with unending wind. Wind that tugs, and pulls, and whispers in your ear. Wind that roars so eloquently that you have to roar along with it.

I love the feeling of the wind on my bare arms. It’s warm and chilly at the same time. It makes me feel invincible and free. It blows the cobwebs from my mind and gives me a clarity that I didn’t know I had within me. Then a split second later it fills me back up. With power, with joy, with whisperings and roars.

I lower my gaze to the silhouettes of the trees that furiously wave to and fro. They’re saying hello. Or goodbye. I can’t tell which. I smile. Move away from the rail, letting go, removing my feet from between the pillars.

I stretch my arm out over the edge and try to capture an eddy of wind in my cupped hand. It is immutable and uncatchable. Wind can only be experienced in the present moment. You can’t save the wind, only the memory of the moment. I pull my arm back in and turn to walk down the stairs.

My moment is over, only the memory remains. The memory itself immutable, untouchable, mine and mine alone. I walk downstairs.

Photo by Speedboat on Flickr.

This week I wanted to share some of the nourishing things I’ve read. The things that I’d like to read while curled up with a cup of chamomile tea.

✿ Rae from journeymamma.com wrote about some of the things she notices in her life. I like reading her words, the feel like feet padding around the house in a quiet slippered way. Gentle, quite, nourishing.

✿ Christian from christianmahai.net wrote about words and the urge to write them down sometimes. He was inspired by something beautiful at McDonalds!

✿ I like reading things that give me a snippet of someone else’s life. Especially when they’re full of nice memories and tales of humanity. Like this story by Mathew James about his mom and the small town they call home.

✿ Seth Godin wrote about the importance of making and keeping promises.

✿ And finally this song, because it’s one of my favourite songs and Chester’s version is awesome. And you can download the song on chestersee.com. Click here to play if you can’t see the video below.

We go down to the beach and play in the surf. Leaping over waves and under waves, trying to catch the big waves in to the shore. Sand between our toes, sunshine on our shoulders. Ice cold drinks with colourful straws, chips and salad when we’re hungry.

We go shopping. In old town, in Da Nang, along the roads. We finger shirts made of soft material and colourful dresses and shoes of all shapes and sizes. Stopping for breaks at cafes that serve passion fruit juice or fresh croissants. Shaking our heads as we’re invited inside shops, being bullied into purchases because “first customer today, lucky for you, lucky for me”. Eyeing off earrings and dresses and jackets and tea cups. Still searching for a specific type of perfect tea cup. Adding things to our wish list like serving trays and postcards, crossing things off like handbags and wallets.

We talk. We eat. We laugh. I snap a few photographs, record a sound clip or a snippet of video. Building up to a new project.

We wonder where the rain is this rainy season. It seems like the weather is here to celebrate with me. We celebrate heat and birthdays and cows moo-ing outside the window.

There’s cloudy days and clear days. Day with a little rain and days with none. There’s bottled water and chilled Dahntahn and iced coffees made on condensed milk. There’s trips to the stores up the road to stock up on lollies on Friday afternoons and early wake-up calls during the week to witness a misty sunrise or go on an expedition to the beach.

There’s less rushing than last time I was here, I have more time to spend, more time to waste on the little moments, the precious moments. More time to soak. More time to revel. More time to enjoy. More time. I am savouring this.