No Talking Please

10888831_10155038845555472_1987163777384467928_n
Ubud, Bali. December 2014.

This weekend I had my bag snatched when I was a few metres from my apartment. Two men went past on a motorbike and grabbed it. I held on but they sped past and got my bag, leaving me in a pile on the road. Besides from the fact that no one in my life has ever intentionally tried to hurt me before, this was upsetting for three reasons:

  • My credit card was in there which expires in 5 months; if I had kept it until then it would have been my first card to reach its expiry date before I’d managed to lose it
  • My kindle was in there and I was two chapters from ‘The Red Wedding’ in  A Storm Of Swords
  • My pink thermos was in there, which I use to ingest approximately 4 times the recommended daily dosage of caffeine

Screw my phone and the money. I’ve had to learn not to get too attached to phones.

Anyway, I spent the rest of the weekend with Kim.  I have never yet been married but Kim and I have basically perfected the marriage model that I hope to one day achieve with a human male (Pete – but I’m not supposed to mention that or he won’t ask). She does a lot of cheering up without being asked, understanding without being told and we have a no judgement policy on dessert binges. Most of all, she enjoys endless talking.

The bag snatching left me feeling homesick on Friday and Kim hung out with me for a solid 50 hours afterwards. So I wrote this in celebration of her sick friendship skills.

Emily x

For My Conversational Soulmate

When I was nine
My brother tired
Of being ‘pointlessly interrogated’
Of being asked
(for the eleventh time)
If he’d be buried
Or cremated.

It’d be a lie to say
that at twenty-five
The questioning has ceased.
He wasn’t the first
(nor was he the last)
To ask for five minutes peace.

So I’m glad that you
Never seem to get tired
of endless prattle
and squawking;
that you never seem to question
‘what’s the point’?

Because the point is:
we are talking.