One of the last few times that I saw my Nonna, she came over to my house with mum to collect the olives I had picked for them. It was such a lovely sunny day, in late April. We were out at the shops when they rang and told me they were here. We rushed home to see Nonna sitting up on the edging strip of the garden bed, on the side of the unit, swinging her legs and mum pacing on the grass. She’d only ever been to my place a couple times before when we had the whole family over for cake after a big lunch out somewhere. I remember her sitting in the lounge room and looking at my plants and saying ‘I wonder where you got that from?’ (my love of gardening). She seemed impressed with my place and it made me happy. She made a comment to my mum about how the landlords must like us after I mentioned something about cleaning. I think maybe Nonna noticed the moisture absorber packets and asked what they were. 

Lately I can spend what seems an eternity staring into nothing. My mind floats away. I don’t know what exactly my thoughts are, maybe only a few. Am I even thinking?

When I was a teenager I used to have these moments where I would slip out of my body and start to float away. I was too scared to let go though. If I did I might not be able to make it back. This doesn’t happen to me anymore. I feel pretty solid most of the time. And I guess I’m stuck here until something else takes me away. I kind of miss that feeling. It was terrifying, but also maybe reassuring, to know that I could just leave. That I could let go if I wanted to.

I’ve only started feeling whole the last few years or so. My adolescent years and also some of my early adult years had a kind of fog. It clouded my thoughts and judgment. It seems to have cleared now. Scattered showers, mostly sunny.

When I was a kid I could fly. I mean I could really fly, I even told my mum. I didn’t go anywhere special, I just remember hovering above the lounge room. I could see the carpet and the coffee table from my bird’s eye view. I was floating around near the ceiling, like a helium balloon.

People are not their bodies.

Last year there was a time where I definitely was not solid. Grief turned me into an empty shell. People around me have died and I have even seen the bodies of people who have died, but I had never really experienced grief until then. It’s like you operate without actually being there. I don’t think I realised how terrible life can be until then. Maybe I knew, but I’d never truly felt it before.