I take a bite of my crispy bread and look out the window. When ever I've heard the term "ghost town" I've always imagined one of those old western cowboy-towns with a saloon. Where there are bars covering the windows, shadows luring in every creek and corner and the only sound that can be heard is the wind playing with an open door. Today I realise that Woolmanhill is all that. It's like everyone has dropped what ever they were doing and just left.
As I take a look around me, I remember that I am one of those also. Most of my things are in bags and boxes, and the room looks not so different from what it did that late evening 9 months ago when I first saw it. The flat is quiet, as if it is tired from keeping an eye out for us. I'm not sad, nor am I exited. Just numb in a way. Full of acceptance of the fact that things never last, yet with a child-like whish that we could all go back to what it was like just a few months ago.
It's weird how much an impact other people can make in your life. How used you can get to having someone around. And even though we know we'll always keep in touch, saying good bye is hard. Maybe it's because we suddenly are to carry on with our seperate lifes, knowing that we've all shared everything and given each other so much, despite different cultures, religions, languages and origins. Suddenly you're on your own, scared that you won't be remembered in a way.
But this is not the end. It doesn't stop here, not for me anyway. As I move all my stuff down 5 floors and back up a different 4, I intend on doing it all over again. The new flat seems quiet just like the old one, but with a feeling of expectations this time, almost as if it knows something new is about to start.
It'll work out, you know. We are not alone on this road. Somewhere someone is waiting for us to make a difference in their life, to create new and good memories together. One day you will cherish them as I do. Life is only what we make it, so keep unlocking new doors. You never know what you'll find...
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3 comments:
På flyttefot altså :) Kun noen etasjer ned og opp igjen? Turistene vel hjemme (har ikkje snakka med dei enda) og du ensom tilbake :) Kos deg, håper de nye du skal bo sammen med dukker opp snart. Klem
Vibecke
Fra Flat18 til Flat36. så langt he ej møtt en amerikaner som heite Ben, å en skotte som .. ej ikkje huska navne på. Attpåtil he ej i dag spurt om ej e irsk.. så VELKOMMEN språkforvirring:p
Så fint du skriv!! D e lett å forstå at du har hatt ei fantastisk tid. egentlig ubekrivelig, men no har du nettopp bevis at d gikk an å beskrive d likevel ;) du e flink t å sette ord på alt..
lykke til videre i det nye huset!!
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