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Wednesday, 9 October 2013

The Perfect Storm

Someone must have shanked that community of 3 am tweeters. I must remember to send them a fruit basket…

I thought to myself, as the first few chords of Bob Marley’s Get up Stand up woke me for my 6.30 am interval of snoozing. Between this and the next alarm at 7.00 I contemplated how clever my play on words was – no one will think I’m actually just talking about the noisy birds that have taken up residence in the tree directly outside my window, they’ll think *snigger* that I’m talking about Twitter. I must find a way to use that. I also need to find a way to use the line “I have an itchy cricket” because it’s hilarious and wildly inappropropri…

Get up Stand up! Stand up for your right... Dismiss.

It’s been a while since Bob has serenaded me awake because, as I previously mentioned… those mother-cluckers outside my window are worse than a bunch of drunk coloureds, insisting that I wake up at 3 am every morning with their incessant summery nattering. But on this particular day, the sun was nowhere in sight… instead, a powdery grey blanket of overcast had wrapped itself around my city. Joburg… you lookin swanky gurrrrl!

I couldn’t stop thinking about our fight on the way to work. The empty bottle of vodka was still rolling around on the passenger side floor and with every ting it gave against the metal lever at the bottom of the seat came a responsive twang of guilt from the pit of my stomach.

Did I actually say that? That’s terrible. Where did it even come from?

It came, from the dark festering mound under the carpet, where all unresolved issues sit and amalgamate into one deadly relationship amoeba. This one was particularly nasty, mostly because it was soaked in the audacity of a Russian Bear.

I wound down my window for some fresh air. There was an undeniable feeling of anticipation that had started to infiltrate through the tapering morning stillness. It’s how I knew, and know, that my city just gets me. Like it had climbed into a pair of old tracksuit pants and said: Sit. Tell me everything… and no matter what, I’m totally on your side.
I wished in that moment that it had done just that – and that we’d sat for hours running over every line of dialogue (if you can call it dialogue) said. I wished that it could collect all of our ugly words and stuff them back into our mouths like a sleeping bag in a tiny sack. I couldn’t tell, but as the day progressed into unsettled shades of cumulonimbus, I got the feeling that it would have told me the ugliness was better out than in.

By 4 o clock it was so dark, I struggled to see the last few items on my to-do list. Blinds battered and bashed against the office windows, panicked and trapped. Mock-charge rumblings from the belly of the beast had begun boldly escaping until a piercing crack solidified the intent. Mother nature’s tumultuous symphony had reached its crescendo.

And just like that, Joburg had its first glorious summer thunderstorm.

The deluge was epic and I stood watching it cascade into the parking lot, in two minds about risking the 50 meter stretch to my car. I felt an inherent all-or-nothingness propel me outside where the hard rain pelted against my skin until my car door slammed. A moment of calm resided as I watched raindrops turn GHD’d locks of hair into spiraling water-slides and apply cheeks into mulchy smeared canvasses of mascara. And then…

Carly: Hello?

My Man: God I miss you. Isn’t this weather just…

*massive smile*

Carly: I know

The next time I looked up, a thick magical coating of gold had sprawled out underneath a magnificent amber sky. The smell of hot roads fighting the cool downpour floated up joyfully into an approaching dusk and even the unmoving scourge of contempt I’d had earlier for those damn birds dissipated, as they began crooning from crevices of refuge.

Later that night, while wishing it were possible for arms to wrap around a person twice, I looked into the kindest set of eyes with absolute peace.

The storm was over and it occurred to me that maybe sometimes gale force winds, maddening torrential torrents and crashing thunder are a necessary prelude to the most beautiful and harmonious rays of sunlight. And sometimes… good things are allowed to come undone, so better things can come together.

1 comment:

  1. Aw sweet :) until that next damn rumble of thunder and lightning strike !