I didn’t realise just how much I love a sunburnt country until I left. In fact, until I went to West Texas. Another sunburnt country. Desert, saltbush, coyotes, rocky mountain ranges, desolation. Also cacti. And snow. These things all tug at my heart. Even cacti. I cannot imagine living in a place without them. And yet, NYC. The seeming antithesis of sunburnt country. I am surprised that I am here. So are others. I love to be surprising.
But on waking in the East Village the first morning now A and I moved even further in, to actual Manhattan, the first sound I heard was birds tweeting. And we watched a fat squirrel scampering around. I lie in bed and look out the window, towards the sky, straight into a tree that will be green and glorious come spring.
Maybe all it takes is a view of nature, to calm me, to give me a moment. I am reminded of my last weeks with Nan, where the view of the Dandenong Ranges from her hospital bed made her so happy. Just like Nan, constrained by a room, I can live constrained by a city, as long as I have a view.
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