Arrival

Firstly, a drive to the beach to witness the blue. Then the post office, my unloved mail from December crammed in, waiting.

And the new place.

Oh good, a clock radio. Too many coat hangers, not enough shelves. No hooks – will have to fix that. So many cleaning products – helpful, but limited cupboard space. Really – three tubes of alfoil?

Stereo better than the last place, TV smaller (good). A couple of leftover novels, the Kimberley Tide Guide. And – intriguingly – Singing in the Rain.

Rearrange the glasses, wipe down that bench. Where to put the cereal? Oh, there’s no pantry.

Off to the supermarket – soap, stick-on hooks, mustard and hand towels. The daily unobserved objects that smooth out our lives. I can settle in – now I own tissues.

Lamp can go in that corner, my books between the speakers. Melbourne keys in suitcase pocket in anticipation of panic a month hence. Designated miscellaneous drawer for chargers, hard drive, extraneous car key rings. Yoghurt and milk and earl grey tea; chocolate I brought with me.

So, home for half this year officially adopted. Co-opted. Explored and rearranged. Transitioned from generic to somewhere of my own.

But what to do with the 3-foot pearl lugger?

Things I might have missed

The sneaky smile on the girl's face as she reaches across the tram aisle, lemon tart in hand, to feed her boyfriend squashed into the doorway.

The slight tilt of the businessman's hips as, intent on his phone, he waits for the lift. The light spilling across the domed expanse of the reading room, his unconscious pose perfectly framed.

The phrasing of a friend in the flight of her revelation: a journey of great messiness.

The challenge whispered across the blank page of the year:

Be present.