I have been away from home and my husband for 18 days. Since getting together 4 years ago, back in 2014, we haven’t been much apart. We even founded our own company to be together even more. He is my best friend too. It’s hard being alone for such a long time, even for an introvert who is used to being on her own. I do enjoy being alone at home sometimes but I also love the moment when he finally comes home in the evening. I am not made for being eternally alone, there is this one person I need.
Day 935 was the day that reminded me how vulnerable I am. How vulnerable every person is, especially as a woman. Alone. Abroad. I am not a daredevil, plunging into adventures, although some of my ventures, especially those in Malaysia, might be questionable. I rarely even go out of the house after the dark. I do not do parties. Simply not interested. I do small gatherings at home, preferably my home where I can do all the cooking. On Thursday evening, I was out and about in Birmingham. It was already dark outside, but the streets were full of people. The city was alive. I was getting cold, it was time to go “home”, which at that time was a cool house with the stylish bits of IKEA furniture and prints of various places in Birmingham and New York as well as David Bowie, among other things, and two awesome fluffy cats, a mother cat and her 1-year-old kitten. The softest fur I’ve ever touched. Well, of course, I wanted to go back to this! Go inside a warm place and get cosy with the felines. In the centre of Birmingham, I was suddenly stopped in my tracks by a young man.
“Excuse me, me and my friend just saw you walking by. I wanted to say that I like your hair.”
Nervous, I raised my hand, showing the ring: “Sorry, I’m married.” and dashed to the direction where I thought my bus stop was supposed to be.
Nothing really happened, he might have even meant well but I am not really into pick-up lines. If you are a woman and you are abroad alone, even small things can throw you, remind you of your own vulnerability. I kept checking if I was being followed. Good, that guy didn’t get on the same bus. He might have stayed on the square where he talked to me, looking for another prey. Does sound dramatic, I know, probably he was decent but then again also on a kind of a hunt. The ache for my husband grew even bigger. I didn’t want to be alone anymore. Just a bit more. A bit more than two weeks.
1. Own and live in a house.
Still not thinking about work and earning for the house. Checked my investments, though, but shouldn’t do it too often.
2. Write AND publish a book.
Wrote my house sitting diary in a beautiful garden that my current house sit has. The sun was gracious and gentle, caressing me. During my run, I developed my own version of the Erlking in my head. This could become such a cool psychological thriller story. I need to write this idea down before it evaporates from my mind. Must. And then I must find time to write this all. This great novel. And the other ones. How could I continue workshopping in Estonia, meeting other people who write? There must be some!
3. Win a major race.
An easy run by the canal. I told the house owners that I like walks and being outdoors and they left me an article about a canal walk just nearby. Instead of walking, I went running there. The railway on one side, the canal on the other. The binary opposition of fast and slow transport, me in the middle, faster than some of the boats, slower than the trains. The sun was shining and it was a good run!
Photo of the Day
The canal, the canal walk, and the railway.