Monday, 18 February 2013

The Tortoise and the Sound of Silence

The Machinist has a tortoise.  His name is George.  He rescued him off the highway, just alongside Lake George.  He's had him for a few weeks now, but we haven't seen George around much.  The other night, however, the Machinist called me to the back deck.

"Babe, Babe!  Come here.... Quick!  Look over there!  Can you see him?"

And there, up against the corrugated fence was George, - legging it at quite a fast pace (for a tortoise) His green mossy domed shell made his limbs seem extra gangly. We couldn't figure out if he was moving it because of the rain, or because he felt energetic at the time.  And we'll never know.

Almost in the exact spot where we found George on the highway, the Machinist spotted a second tortoise.  He glanced in the rear view mirror, then screeched on the brakes.  "Turtle!", he declared.

(The Machinist calls turtles AND tortoises 'Turtles'.  He must like the phonetics).

Keeping his eye on the traffic, the Machinist began reversing.  Cars and trucks screamed past.  The Machinist continued reversing, and was probably imagining two 'turtles' frolicking in our garden at home....

And then "...He's dead.  They must have ran over him.  Bastards!"

 **********************************************************************


In other news - it's the second night filled with the Sound of Silence.  The second night since our adult children Sam and Hayley, with their ten month old baba, Keiralea have moved out of our home and into their own.

The Machinist, watching the look of forlorn on my face attempts to comfort me:
"They're only down the street, Babe".  And they are.  Less than 500 metres away.  A brisk 5 minute walk (and even less if I'm lazy and drive there!) 

But it's not the distance.  It's not about this particular dear little family moving out and starting their new life together.  It's the realisation, - the actualisation of us beginning OUR new life as well - and the strangeness of it all.

It's also the knowledge of more changes to come in a fairly short time, as our girls come and go and leave as well.

 Sarah and Emma

Sometimes, change is uncomfortable and disconcerting. So are surprises.  I'm not fond of them at all.  Surprises are shocking and my absorbers are feeling worn...