It was a great day, a fun day and a mysterious day when I purchased the orange wooden chairs!
We had escaped the world for a few days, a getaway you had planned. A few days at a small bush B and B in crows next. A tiny cabin, nestled in the trees on a hillside with a beautiful four poster bed and wood fire to warm us. (That’s another story!)
We unloaded the eskies and explored the tiny space we would call home for a few nights. I had prepared our food, you the booze. A cold beer, cider and a cheese platter we moved to the two reclining wooden chairs on the hillside. About 50m from the cabin. We ate the cheese reclined in the wooden chairs and admired the space, the view and the silence. The sunset, one of many we watched together, beautiful!
I knew then I would have to get a set of those wooden chairs for home. We often woke early and had coffee, the news in the background standing on my balcony. Why not sit? I investigated the chairs, where to get them and of course in the most absurd colour!
I ordered them, collected them in flat pack boxes, and spent the good part of an evening assembling them. God I was excited! We had somewhere to sit now, also a small memory of our time away from it all.
You hated the bright orange, although I think you secretly liked it. Instead of standing we would now sit when on the balcony. Coffee in hand and of course AL Jazeera in the background. We would talk of the list of ‘jobs’ we both had that day. Yours always so full of stuff to do!
I would often stand behind you as you leaned over the balcony, my hands around your body my head on your back and we would just be. Knowing that time would eventually make us get on with it. Moments I cherished and I know you did as you often reached down and just held my hands as they held you.
We would finish our coffee and collapse on the bed. Intertwined and wishing we could just be. That the days jobs would dissipate and we could pick them up the next day. However, they never did. You would be dressed in your work clothes, often the ones with their musty work smell from the day before, socks on, garters on and then the boots.
Again we would collapse on the bed. Intertwined… pausing again for a moment before we had to go about our days.
Saying goodbye, kissing you as you left, watching the Ute reverse and hit the brick wall, often, something you just never did well. The mark still there. A memory. Always for me. Nothing to anyone else but us.
Now I sit on the orange chairs, one missing its person. It’s gathering dust, I promise to wipe it down, but also it’s missing you. The view into the neighbours garden not the same. You always critiqued it. Always had recommendations but hey it was his garden. You would be happy to know the plants he planted haven’t grown. You knee they wouldn’t and given the chance would have fixed it for him!
My garden however, is flourishing, after your touch and complete overhaul! It’s beautiful. A tree is sagging though and I wish you were here to help me. To pull out your tools and do what you always did. I watch it leaning and I know I should do something but I can’t.
I am to busy sitting in one of the orange chairs wondering how I am here. How one of the chairs is empty and what to do now. I know you never liked the orange but you loved that we had our chairs.
They are but a memory, one of many!