A room of one's own

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My life is a work in progress.

If I think it is on track, someone or something else changes it. If I am trackless, a route appears.
We live and learn.

I find myself in the coins in his collection, in the bells around Lao Wang’s dog’s necks, in the mirror in Cai Gen Lin’s shop, in Song Song’s bed, in the opening of a door to a new home, in the reflected rainbows across the walls from the ancient crystals that Mr Beddoes gave me over 15 years ago, in the polaroids of friends, in the lanes, by the wells, on the back of your bike when you came looking for me, and in lost unstoppable flashbacks.

Everyday, I find a little more of myself - gently piecing together the person I am becoming. There is no rush.

I peg my new history into the walls. It’s now taking shape in the mortar and dust in China.

I have found somewhere to sleep. It’s a beautiful gap filler. Not a chris gap - I have no feelings there now - not loss, nor love, nor hate nor respect - he is nothing, however, the dog is different. The gap is full of potential and I cram it with beauty of all kinds and with the unfound and unknown. Moving through found moments that I came here to find, peeling back the skin of time, laughing and finger pointing, I change the unfound into found and it becomes the new history I longed for. I hang my new stories with the curtains across the windows.


I moved into my new house on Monday. It is in the lanes, buried further back than you would think to look. It’s both old and new, quiet and noisy, clean and dusty. But, mostly and absolutely, it is perfect. It’s elegant and unassuming in equal measure. I feel safe and every minute it grows into me and I into it.

The landlord had the old roof made tidy and repainted the edges of the old roof tiles, Aiyee cleaned and cleaned before I arrived, plants were delivered, plumbing connected and old rugs laid. I want for nothing else in a home.

I wanted him to be the first person to see it. We agreed 3pm. I walked the back lanes to meet him and when I was almost near his tea house, meandering and thoughtful, he called me before I was ready and I glanced round.

“Where are you going?”
“To find you.”
“But it’s not 3.”
“Get on.”

And with that I got behind him on his bike that electrically bobbed its way to my house, whilst I hummed some tune into his back, not holding on but the space around holding us whilst I pushed away the thoughts. I wanted his approval but I didn’t want him to say it was beautiful.


The balcony above the kitchen has become my favourite place at home. Anytime, it’s refreshing catching the breeze and the sun and the sounds from the echoing roof. Today, it is pelted with slanting rain that I can see is diagonally aiming west. I miss nothing. No small detail is wasted into the slim cracks of time. My mind forgets but my instant understanding never lets me down. As I watch my heart beat in my wrist, I am grateful for the chance to live this way.

A simple life with complex thoughts and feelings.

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Photos

Mei Ling offering me the best in the pot
The landlord and his wife took me home for dinner the night of signing the contract

Johnny Stilettoesque
there were 7 cats, one dog and 4 tortoises under the table all waiting for the food