By Sue Trollip
On Wednesday nights in summer there are free music concerts in the park. Most of the town comes out to play, some bring supper, some just drinks. Everyone brings a blanket to sit on and something warm for when the sun goes down.
Right in front of the stage is a sandy piece of ground for those who like to boogy, and on a hot summer Wednesday, with a margarita in one and a band hitting their groove, who wouldn’t want to boogy? (It’s not a nightclub, nor a school disco, it’s just mellow cats bopping.)
My niece has this ploy when the band hots up, she grabs my hands and either tucks her legs in tight and we swing around, or I pull her hands upwards and she walks up my thighs and does a somersault. We both giggle and get dizzy and flushed with our small adrenaline buzz.
I’m telling you this because on the job front, life keeps throwing me curve balls. (Yes, I am grateful that it is finally throwing me any balls at all!) Last night I slept for thirteen hours because balancing balls like graveyard shifts is not my forte. But while working those graveyards I met some lovely, and a few spooky, people. I laughed. I ate chocolate cake and I raised my eyebrows. I learned a lot about this place I am now trying to call home. Then the graveyard ball got taken away, hence the long sleep, and a new ball flew in. I caught it swiftly and it became part of the balancing act. I rejigged my work schedule and moved into the next phase.
It’s not a 9-5 life and sometimes it’s bloody exhausting, but it’s also fun. It’s different and I think, like my niece at a summer night concert, I’m going to grab on tight with both hands, fling my feet in the air and see what happens next.