Another Sunday is rolling in and I’m writing this post at eleven o’clock at night. It’ll go live at a much more sensible time but my thoughts can’t wait until tomorrow to be put down on virtual paper. The neighbourhood is asleep, only a few squares of light are shining through the blinds. The tall, communist buildings hovering above our little family house seem less intimidating at night. Yes, I’m back in Sofia for a week and everything appears to be weightless. Like my life is put in brackets. To be resumed at a later time.
A familiar song echoes from an old playlist and I’m transported in Gatwick where it used to play. I remember the grey early mornings and the glossy white floors and the endless double shifts on L’oreal. I remember exactly what time this song used to come on and the few minutes of peace it used to bring me. I remember it all like it was yesterday.
And yet, things have changed since I first heard this song one December morning, between 7:30 and 8am. Gatwick lives on without me and, with a smile on my face, I mostly remember the good things. Sure, I felt worthless and bored 99% of the time I spent there but as times goes by, only the happy moments remain. The friendly customers, the Christmas parties and the laughter. The jokes exchanged, the friends made and the few beautiful perfumes stashed in a box.
I spent over 2 years longing to leave this place and now, only the good remains, floating on the surface like a salvaged piece of timber from a wrecked boat. I really should use this as an example. I really should apply what I’ve learned to my present situation but sighing and lamenting seem easier…
And so, if we were having coffee (despite the hour those words are being typed), I probably wouldn’t say much. It isn’t that I haven’t got much to say, I just have more to reflect on. In a comment to my last post, Graeme shared a quote I have been pondering on day and night. And until I start seeing things a little clearer, I will probably be quieter than usual.
There seems to be many authors and different variations of one same sentiment. I’ve chosen the following, by Joseph Campbell.
There is perhaps nothing worse than reaching the top of the ladder and discovering that you’re on the wrong wall.
Before you go, head over to Part Time Monster and pay a few other blogs a visit on this linky. They might have more choice than just coffee.