Posted by: nativeiowan | August 26, 2012

the dust in the corners,

and under the furniture. All scattered memories of times past…

As I pack for yet another journey, another round in the ring. As I tidy up my messes accumulated, and shift and prepare. The two big steamer trunks I travel between here and the Solomons with patiently waiting. Both easily loaded to the requisite 32 kgs. I have some towels and sheets to take back to the Honiara house. Some tools and gear for Gizo. All now being stacked in prep for the packing.

And as I pack, like an archeologist uncovering my own past, I find evidence of life in this time and place…

The wad of hair, the scrap of wrapping. In the linen closet. I disturbed it as I moved, again, some clothes I don’t wear but refuse to throw out. The scrap of wrapping from Mendozza’s birthday in June. The hair is an artifact of a balding old guy.

A deflated balloon with a MacDonalds-soccer logo, a leftover from one of the many sporting events we’ve attended this year. Looking like a used condom (and of course it is red) is appears to have been left to deflate in a corner in the guest room closet. Lord knows how long it has been there. I struggle to convince myself it’s safe to pick up.

A stack of documents and pictures and old note books, all in manila envelopes, needs to be treated with respect… My first communion picture (with sister Richardene and father Alberts). A travel note-book filled to over flowing with oneliners, small sketches, and pages of verse and commentary from my tramp steamer days in the early 80s. So much here of value. I take the time to clean a messy drawer so these lie safe.

A fat, blue crayon in the furthest reaches of the deepest corner under my sprawling countertop in the office. Even deeper, in the shadows next to the crayon I find a “nerf bullet”.

All are treasures. All make me smile. Life is indeed guuud…

more later


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