My job is in customer service. Things got so hairy the other day I asked a colleague if it was a full moon, and she laughed and said it had been yesterday!
But that’s not what this post is about – I’m just laying groundwork. And to be honest, it’s not even about that pie! (Looks at pie. Looks at pie some more.)
I shouted all the way home that day, and hubby eventually said “Ok, I had a difficult day too. Shall we buy some icecream sundaes on the way home and brighten our day? And we can get those new godawful drinks the kids wanted that time.”
Sounds wonderful and refreshing, so we hit the Hungry Jack’s drive through, and while we give our order, I suddenly spot the Pie is on the menu. A wave of grief and sadness and misery smashes through me, and I stumbled through my order, reverting back to the original plan of a caramel sundae rather than looking at a slushy type of thing. I had to retreat – couldn’t go with something out of the zone right now, busy hurting.
Seeing the pie brought back memories of when I had been so lucky to try one – roaming around New Zealand with a car load of friends a few years ago, we needed a snack and I relished every bite and crumb. It brought back the feeling of being in a different country, and the adventures we had that day. Of being in a small car with three of my best mates and just living the moment. We went on a lake in a last minute dash, spotted a mountain from the middle of it while drinking wine in the spray-laced breeze and then drove all the way up the mountain to see if we could touch the snow.
We couldn’t get to the snow, but it felt like touching the sky.
And now I’m hurting and grieving again. I had managed to ignore how much I loved travelling.