The quiet anticipation

by Anna Blanch on September 13, 2012

It is five thirty in the morning and the birds have begun their raucous chatter. I have missed this. I missed the cool sharpness of the air and the sound of these birds. I arrived once again by train. a bus and train by the black bitumen-ed highway and through rugged and grassy fields. It was a roundabout journey from Scotland, needing to put those closest to me first.

The early morning hours are my favourite here. They are full of promise and quiet anticipation.

My life here is like a composition book where there are scribbles on the first few pages, lightly inscribed but mainly empty. Yet unlike most of what I write I’m not yet sure even what I hope will fill these pages. I have no outline to flesh out, nor abstract offering a concise executive summary.

Sometimes when I’m not sure where I’m going with a piece I freewrite my way into it. Just sit and let my brain spill out whatever it may. Not quite stream of consciousness but close.

Maybe my life here will need to be like that too, wing it for a while until a shape emerge or until I find myself imagining a vision and a life.

Life without a plan. That’s something new for me.


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  • JT Adamson

    That sounds both frightening and wonderful!  Enjoy the quiet.

    • Goannatree

       it is both…

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