All you really need to know is that everything has ended and it has rained.
I'll put a whole bunch of photos over on flickr to catch you up on where, what and how I have been, because I really ought to be cleaning.
But I shall tell one wee story tonight.
Yesterday was the first day that it has not rained in many, many weeks, and I was feeling a less cranky and having-a-coldy than I have been in about as many weeks, so I decided that conditions were ripe for a run. I didn't run. I decided I didn't have time and so biked my old running-course (I did of course have time for a quick run, what I really shouldn't have made time for was the cutting and sticking of many purikura, the reading of Hardy (comfort food for the brain) , the baking of two carrot cakes, one apple cake and one lemon slice (would be such as shame to see those ingredients going to waste), the watching of inter-net TV and ah... the uploading of photos. Running would have been much better for the stress/sleep thing. ) (I like brackets.)
I was thinking as I biked my old run-way, about all the last times I have been having. There have been so many conscious endings going on and because I am happy here they've all been sad. But it is all the unconscious last times that have been making me most melancholy. When I went running for the last time those week ago before the rain and the coughing started, I didn't know it was the last time. Did I look around? Did I nod to the bald quartet (two men, a woman and a dog) sitting on their door step? Did I exchange ganbarre!s with the arm-swinging old couple? I dunno. It's like after a break-up when you think about all the little things you took for granted when there is no-one there who knows to order extra condiments with the chips. A little off track. Forgive me. It is 2am.
So. I guess all I'm really saying is that I hate good-byes and all the forced memory-making. It doesn't matter what I did on my last run because running was a cumulative memory (and an oddly addictive activity for someone who has always avoided exercise on dry land (except soccer)) and it's the same with my fine friends, super students, tenacious teachers and all.
I'll be back in Wellington in less than a month now. I'll be out of my house in a day and a half... which means I have to be all packed tomorrow. Panic. Panic... sleep.
The last eight hours of merry making are starting to take their toll. It is time to sleep.
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