When life feels out of control, what do you do?
Well, this afternoon we cleaned out the filing cabinet! I can highly recommend this activity. The alternate was to make more zucchini relish (it is indeed the season for it) but Daryl already had the zucchinis soaking and seriously how much relish can you eat?
The filing cabinet stands stoically in the corner of our study and is a silent reminder of the many ‘must do’s’ I have on my list. Although it never raises its voice above silence, I can hear it, feel it call me to sort it out and lighten the bulging drawers.
Why did today choose to be the winner of this particular task? I have no idea. Maybe because driving to Melbourne to pick up some books and the proverbial kitchen sink was not enough of a distraction yesterday. Maybe, there is no explanation, and on a whim we started. I must admit Daryl was coerced into the exercise but willingly looked through files while resting on my favourite red chair. Our filing cabinet, like many of its kind, holds secrets and treasures of its own. It is indeed the keeper of our memories long forgotten, the holder of our decisions made many years before, it is also the reminder of time passing by. Each document releases a memory, a recollection, a time of joy, expense or regret and this moment is hurled back into the present for us to savour or discard. Sometimes the dust that flies from the pages is a little suffocating, other times I felt like I needed to wash my hands. I sustained only one paper-cut. We found old report cards, letters to sports stars, many works of art, receipts for small purchases and others much larger - like our trip to the UK a few years ago. Legal documents, financial statements, all crammed the files despite having no purpose now. Some days I feel just like those documents, taking up space with little purpose.
My friend and I drove to the city last night, on a whim. We both had items to pick up as mentioned previously (seriously, a kitchen sink and books) that I might add a more logical minded male, known well to us, pointed out could easily have been delivered via a courier. He is correct, they could have, saving several hours of our time and significant fuel but when my friend and I were having this conversation, something in me stirred and I saw an opportunity. Albeit odd, irrational, illogical - an opportunity should never be ignored.
We spent six hours on the road, two hours dissecting an ordinary dinner in a Fitzroy café, collected our respective items and never was there a moment of silence as we devoured the chance to share our inner worlds – the one we keep hidden, protected - the one that makes us vulnerable and a little (somedays, a lot) out of control. It is a friendship that has spanned more than two decades, and to an outsider it’s probably a bit weird, but it works. Distinctly different in every way, we complete each other – but never in the way of self-help books or a standard arc, plans or plot lines and that’s perfectly ok.
We didn’t solve anything, we didn’t make any grand plans, we didn’t really do anything spectacular – but I heard my friend, I saw her, and what did she do for me? Exactly the same. In those hours we stopped feeling invisible.
Much like our troublesome filing cabinet I have closed the drawers again, less encumbered than before. Daryl has gone back to making zucchini relish, my nose is smarting from the strong smell of vinegar filling the kitchen, my eyes are stinging as the chilly simmers on the stove. I know he is contented to be back and being useful. While he can’t control the chaos of his health concerns, he can cook up a damn fine relish.
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