alone in the universe

F is spending the next couple of  nights with two of his cousins up from Melb, and  D and D’s sister. They are all  up on the Range. I spent the day there with them today, drove back down here to the beach tonight. Noticing, as the last rays of the sun turned the rainforest  to luminous golden green, that I felt a little sad to be driving off and leaving them all. I could have stayed if I wanted to. But chose this solitude back at the beach house instead. 

The feeling of bereft-ness that brushed my heart  was something I recognise. It is always like this when I separate from my little family. There is a period of mourning -  it lasts somewhere between five minutes and a  couple of days. Then some sort of internal re-adjustment takes place and I remember that I love being alone and delight in my own company. And then it is time to rejoin them, another clunky gear-change. 

Driving back I heard on the car radio that  scientists have discovered a planet  that they think might be a bit like Earth - similar size, temperature etc. And only twenty light years away.

Are we alone in the universe? seemed to be the theme. It’s touching, somehow. There was also some expert bloke toying with the fanciful idea that we might be able to sometime  go and live on this other planet. Maybe. If we could figure out how to get there. If it had the right sort of air for us to breathe.  Also half this planet is always in the dark, the other half always turned to its sun-star , so we’d have to adapt to living on the in-between-bit.

What, is this in case we completely trash the planet we’ve already been given? Or just feel like a change of scene?

Personally, I’ll stick with Planet Earth. I’d rather go down with the ship.

I stop at the awful shopping centre on the way home, because I am not quite ready to face the empty house and the mournful old sound of the sea. It’s late night shopping, but very quiet. I reckon the only thing more depressing than a raucous crowded school holidays shopping centre is an almost empty night time shopping centre. Cavernous, sterile, artificially - lit. I bought a casserole dish, some socks for F, a  soap holder. Then home via the video shop.

The dear old  house has been full of  people these last few days. Kids up and down the stairs, toast crumbs on the bench, suncream and hats everywhere, beach towels and bathers draped over the verandah railings, sand on the bathroom floor. Voices coming up from the beach, the outside shower going. Sandcastles built and washed away. Excited sightings of whales and dolphins with everyone out on the deck, passing the binoculars. 

Now  everyone is  gone, and the sound of the sea comes back in to fill the house and lull me to sleep.