Flushed with Life

A trip to my hometown has been a welcome expedition this weekend, and it's a blessing to be able to fill every hour with loved faces and voices. Food too, of course, for what other ritural do we have that so beautifully encapsulates trust and friendship than to share the staff of life? All my troubles and the troubles of the world and worries of my future have been laid down for 3 days and it is wonderful. A reminder that things don't always need to make sense or conform to a big plan.
Old friends have come home, and it is so very good to put flesh back onto the email. To see the delectable V&B back in Newtown was to see something put right in the world. I met some new souls too - Ross, writing in Stanthorpe; Stephen, funny and clever from Canberra.

Walking down King Street yesterday, chatting on the phone, I had been feeling uneasy I might run into someone particular with whom things for me would be uncomfortable. That queasy feeling of unrealistic expectation that can sometimes overtake a sunny day. Glancing up, I sawa tall man looking directly at me and there was a split second of mayhem in my brain and the entire system shut down. Was it the man I was wanting so desperately to avoid? He clearly recognised me, and I him. I had stopped mid word, stopped mid step, was literally standing gaping at him. His lights changed, the person on my phone said something, I stepped, he crossed the street we all moved on. Who was it? Where was I? God, he was beautiful. How could I know him? A few more paces and it all came back. I had worked with him briefly two or three years ago, and he had been beautiful then too, but arrogant and laughable. We had been telling his story just last December to entertain, as he'd been booted from the most tolerant workplace in the world. Here he was, etched into my mind, and I couldn't help but wonder what the river of life had bought to him in the years since he had earnt my emnity. There seems to be a current of meaning in running into him in this way at this time, but I can't figure it out right now. Coming home I saw him again, and neither of us had the mood to stop or acknolwedge the other. But we looked, and in looking what did we say?
I don't know.
But I'm writing again and the mysteries of human life are the most precious secrets in the world.