The last Rose of summer

We have been living in our little house for eleven years now. After about a year we planted things in our garden, including two rose bushes. Of course I wanted red and white roses, but, like many other things, that went wrong and now we have a yellow and a white rose bush. These things happen when you trust a "garden designer"... But, the roses are of course not to blame. In fact they do their best to flower every year and are the reason for much happiness in our little household.

This year we sadly did not really have a proper summer. It rained a lot and it was not really hot, which also has the positive side effect that we could sleep at night (our bedroom is situated under the roof, where heat usually gathers). Presently we are settling in for autumn. So far we can't complain. It was mild and often fairly sunny, and the colours outside are very beautiful at times. A few days ago I noticed that the yellow rose bush was actually carrying one blossom. Two days ago it opened and looked quite nice. Today it really opened up and looked so cheerful and actually perfect. As the nights are starting to grow very cold, Thomas cut off the rose and brought it inside so that it can live a little longer. Now our roses never had any kind of scent, but that didn't bother us. I have no idea why, but today Thomas decided to smell at the rose. Without saying anything, he passed it to me and I took a sniff and was amazed! The rose gave off the most painfully beautiful scent...not too weak and not too strong...in other words, just perfect. A mixture of memories, hope, sadness, as well as happiness....it utterly baffled and moved me. It was as though the rose wanted to send me a message...

And for once, the cat had no fitting aria to sing. Maybe the language of cats and roses is a bit too different. But I'm sure she will make up for it just before the crack of dawn tomorrow ;-)

Belonging

This morning while putting on my face (yes, I do take it off every night and hide it in a safe place, so consequently I tend to get up faceless in the mornings...poor Thomas), I suddenly realised that, if it weren't for the theatre here in Würzburg where I am currently working, I would not exist. If I remember correctly, my late grandfather did a bit of freelance acting in the theatre in his day, and my parents met at the ball which was hosted by the theatre. My mother is from here and my father studied the French Horn here at the music college. He also played in the orchestra as a student when the then "new" theatre re opened, after having been destroyed during the war. I uttered my first screams here, not exactly in the theatre, but certainly close by.... Shortly after these screams, and I sincerely hope not BECAUSE of them, my parents and I moved to Regensburg, where my father had a job at the opera house, and shortly after that we emigrated to South Africa.

I spent my formative years in that beautiful country, went to government schools and got my university degree. I felt very much at home there, but was always treated a bit like an outsider. Not at all in a nasty way, but it was always clear that I was not really "one of them". After the completion of my studies, I came to Germany to further my education. Things did not quite go as planned due to circumstances beyond my control, and I found myself short of funds and in need of a job. For some or other reason, fate decided to send me back to the city of my birth. Being young and optimistic, I told myself that everything would be all right as I now was where I belonged. Still I could not warm to the city. Just as I was about to leave, fate cemented my stay here by firmly fixing Thomas in my life. Still being young and optimistic, I told myself that it was a sign and that I now belonged here, but after some time I realised that it was the same as in my beloved South Africa: I was "at home", but never got to be "one of them" until today...

So, how does one know where one belongs? Of course there are all these sayings like "home is where the heart is" etc. Well the two most important people of my life are here...and yes, I certainly consider the cat as a "people", and so would you if you would have heard her rather long and voluminous aria at the crack of dawn this morning, just before she came into the bed for her cuddle, I have my job which I love and my cute little colourful house, but still, even after all this time, I never managed to feel as though I belong here...

Anyway, I am still young (ok...on a good day, with the right lighting and seen from a certain angle maybe) and there is still some optimism there somewhere, so I will firmly tell myself that someday I will arrive somewhere, with the cat and Thomas and know that I finally BELONG. And the cat will sing another aria, and all will be well :-)