Saturday, July 22, 2017

Halfway House (One Mile at a Time)

You know the deal: for years I have been quashed, sunk in quicksand. Since late 2011 I have been barricaded here at Breezy, the House on the Lake; like a convict have I been confined, with only the birds (and my parents) for buddies. Stormboy and his pelican, that has been my plight, stranded 'midst the sandstone scarps. Storms have come and gone, planes streaking across the sky, yet I have been steadfast as the stones, and just as sullen. Much as I yearn to passenger one of those planes which hourly pass by overhead, I remain trapped, saddled by my agoraphobia, and a lack of appropriate funds. It doesn't matter much that I have a job now, and savings are accumulating swiftly... Australia is a huge, expensive country, and I will need an awful lot of cash to traverse it. How much is an open question, the intersection of a number of sliding rules. Basically, the longer I wait, the easier it becomes. But I am so tired of waiting, and I would love to kick things forward, anyway I can. At the moment, any move would be a good one, even one which took me just to the top of the driveway. I would be at least one step on my way, halfway out of my hole. And once my momentum had recovered, that one small step could turn into a second, and then into a third...

The Garage.. aka the Halfway House (Australia, 2017)

A few months ago, my Mum decided to convert the garage, which sits on the top of the hill, into a granny flat. Well, it might be just a granny flat for her, but under my stewardship it could inflate into a pod, a Halfway House no less. Within a few months weeks days, I will be relocating up there, and living by myself. Even if it was my Mum's idea, I should not be too suspicious. For better or worse, I will soon have my own place, for the first time in six years! 

An empty space (Australia, 2017)
Granted, it is never going to be as nifty as my Shinozaki digs, with its programmable bath and explosive water pressure, but it promises to be nice, nonetheless. The days of watching my parent's British chatshows and murder mysteries are coming to an end, and that alone is something to savour, whether I end up with a wall-screen TV or not.

Insert window here (Australia, 2017)
My Mum has ordered an air-conditioner, courtesy of Kelvinator, and a kitchen where I can cook spaghetti carbonara (if I ever learn how!) Even as I type the kitchen is coming together, sink and drawers, red tiles on the walls, and a bench where I can remotely teach. I can look down at Breezy at the bottom of the hill, and contemplate how far I have come.

Kitchen in the works, in the Halfway House (Australia, 2017)
It is just a few short steps from there to the top of the hill, but for me at least, it will be an Armstrongian leap. Once I move in I will be able to order Indian food from The Entrance, and watch Viceland in the early hours of the morning. It will be as great a step forward as getting off Work for the Dole, or of getting off the dole itself. It will be like having an Absence every day of the year! And as the old expression goes, absence makes the heart grow fonder. Absence makes the heart grow stronger.

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