My girls paddleboarding the Brisbane River
The nature of where we live and who we are lends us to making lots of friends.
Friends that don't stay.
Every best friend my daughters made each year at school ~ gone the next year.
Back to Sri Lanka, Quebec, Africa, New Zealand, China, Germany. Friends from church to India, USA, Canada. Others arrive in Brisbane for a short time to relocate elsewhere in Australia. Strangers and friends met in our local park, this inner city community of ever moving migrants.
We have people tumble in and out of our lives at a much too quick rate.
Some we've lost contact with.
Knowing people who relocate overseas a lot means my house has become a testament to those who've flown in with the wind and reluctantly back out again.
I'm often thinking of the owners when :
I set my table with their tablecloth
Iron my clothes on their ironing board
Bring out the plastic chairs for extra guests
Curl my hair
Bake a cake in that square pan
Drive my Car.
Wear their clothes
Use the blender
Eat from their casserole dishes
Use the cleaning products left with me
The kids use their beach toys
I finally use unusual cupboard ingredients they didn't get to use up
I smile when using these items. These things warm my heart.
I've got the ghosts of friends long left inhabiting my home.
I hope they are happy to know that a little piece of them still lives on in Brisbane.