Commuting.
I sat on the train this morning, when suddenly my eyes locked onto a girl who stood waiting to get off the train with her bike, and an amazing coat. I wanted it, and gazed after her with a longing I have not felt since I walked out onto the tarmac at Adelaide airport one cold and drizzly night some weeks ago. The coat was a shade of blushing deep rose; a trench with amazing pleated detail on the back of the bodice, a full skirt below the belted wasit, a hood, and was lined with plaid woven wool. It was amazing. The girl left the train, with her bike, and I stared wistfully after the coat wishing it were mine.
After she left, the woman across from me with blonde dye only just hiding her grey roots, and a delicate hand knitted lace scarf began to file her nails. She finished patting a thick, white cream into the lines at the corners of her eyes, and took a nail file out of her handbag.
Me? I sat with an empty takeaway coffee cup, much too large handbag, scarf, furry hat. I'd missed my train by about ten seconds and had to wait fifteen minutes for the next one. I bought a coffee from the Organic place near the station to take the chill from the cold, Melbourne morning, and was served by a young man with a warm and inviting smile. He blessed me after I sneezed, and in his friendship I forgot to order decaf.
On my way home, after a very short day's work, I sat down on a bench next to a grandmother, grandfather, and a little girl with a red coat to match mine. She said hello, and so I said hello back, and we carried out a conversation until the train arrived. They sat a few rows of seats away from me, and so I sat making faces and waving at the little girl from my own seat. I even pretended to strangle myself with my scarf, bulging out my eyes and sticking out my tongue, which received giggles from not only her, but two other little boys sitting nearby.
Walking back from the station I heard someone call out my name, and discovered my housemate behind me. We walked home together. Where I am now. And after deciding to miss choir practice tonight, I made plans to see a gig and invited a friend along. My friend and I will be meeting at 8pm in Fitzroy. We are so cool.
So I am home, and settled, and it's not even 5pm.
Next week, I have decided, I am starting administration work again.
3 comments:
Do you mean to say that I could satisfy all of your Adelaide-centred longing with a coat the shade of blushing deep rose?
If you would still like to be an income-earning textile artist, I can commission you to make me the Best Jumper In The World, and I will pay you in continental cooking, silk-covered notebooks, and small but warm pieces of Adelaide.
That is so awesome that bikes can go on trains.
I have no idea why that is so fascinating.
You've never seen a bike on a train?
Someone once told me, that if you take your bike on the train you're supposed to buy an extra ticket for it. I don't know how true it is, but there's no way I buy two $6 train tickets just so I can take my bike with me.
And Ben, my longing would be only temporarily satisfied. Then I would very much want you to see me in my new coat, and so I would be longing all over again.
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