Shhhh... I'm hiding

There's halo around the moon tonight, it's beautiful. I wonder if you can see it in New Zealand. Probably not. Too many clouds I expect. Not a problem we often have here in Western Australia.

The children are asleep. Finally.

The TV is streaming the hopes and dreams of thousands of sports men and women to two empty couches.

Les is taking a long time to do a job across town. I wonder if perhaps he's had an accident. I often worry that he'll go and leave me. Wonder what I'll do. What would be best. What would even be possible. In reality he's probably talking gliding with a kindred spirit about to embark on his own journey in the hopes of sporting glory as Les did 2 year ago.

If we win the lottery in the next few days Les will take a trip to South Africa. The F3J worlds are on and he'd happily be a bag boy for anyone who would take him if he could just get there. It'd fill his tank with all the goodness he's been missing since we left the green flying fields of home.

My tank is empty. And it seems that despite that it's still being sucked dry. That's why I am hiding.

I got here. I worked. I 'built' our nest, I feathered it. And then I went looking for kindred spirits to come and play.

I thought I found them. My Aussie Carolann. My Australian Miss Wendy, and an Ocker Jozlyn.

I was excited, exhilarated. Like a girl with a crush. 

Stupid. Silly me. These things are irreplaceable. 

Instead they were imposters. Some did not follow through. Empty promises. They were the 'good' ones. The worst sucked me dry. Problems and trauma and troubles. I have enough of my own.

I don't mind listening, but I need to be heard as well. There should be 'give' if there is to be 'take'.

And so I'm hiding.

But perhaps not, hiding. Maybe choosing. Choosing not to just accept anything. Choosing to wait, wait for better things.

And maybe I can see them in the haze of the horizon. Like a dawning day. A glimmer, the first break of light is an impromptu call for cupcakes. A five minute conversation at the school gates after the 9 o'clock bell rings, where woes and celebrations are poured equally from weary hearts, is sweet like a birds early morning call.

I don't know, I guess friends are like Speights and Mainland Cheese.

She's a hard road finding the perfect woman. These things take time.

 ♥