Day …

Case numbers: NEW RECORD for Sydney, 633.

Today was a weird day. I woke up after spending a long night in the sewing room, finishing off my vest for class this morning. I was so excited after sewing my first zipper that I sewed two more and then the whole thing.

Of course the teacher didn’t ask about the vest today, so it stayed hanging off a chair in the lounge room like the last girl asked to dance.

I also found before class that my late night cost me, as my stomach started to feel woozy again. Worried, I panick-bought some fabric.

None for my assignments of course, but because I happened to find this fabric store in a random backstreet ages ago, and inside was a treasure trove of unique fabrics that the lady reassured me “when they sell out Darlin, you’ll never see them again.”

I swallowed hard- “Not even like a square patch?”

Linda turned into a hob-goblin, “NEVER.”

And Linda was right. The fabrics were all hand-picked and unique from overseas suppliers. Some screen-printed, yarn woven, antique-aged linens, hand-cut silks….

I had a whole pile in my basket before I checked my bank account, and threw them all out again.

Get OUT SWANS, netted embroidered cotton and speckled duck-egg knit!

After some contemplation, I finally settled on two; the powdered pink aged-linen (which is the hardest thing to find on account, linens are never soft colours but usually violent Valentino shades).

And the other was a screen-printed ramie, in dark-blues tones, printed with fluro redish-orange tulip heads, scattered like koi fish in a pond. I picked it not because of the fabric, but rather because it took me to the lantern festival in Japan with all the box-like lanterns; I just wanted to dissolve into that fabric. Even just for a minute.

For that fabric I had not really any idea what to make, other than a cute jumpsuit with a red bow/trim around the pockets. However one thing I did know, was that fabric was special. And if it didn’t speak to me yet, maybe for a collection later on it would.

Fabrics were a lot like people, my lecturer had said. Right time and right place.

When I finally exited the bed, the rest of the day my mind was wrapped in fabric and possibilities.

I think I settled on a two-piece weekend set for the pink linen, using kimono shapes or maybe even big pillowy sleeves, lace trim and a baby doll dress… mmmmmmMmm. Delicious.

As I sat down near the bay, everyone and their cat was out. It was kind of like people forgot about Covid when nice weather showed up. Which was rather scary to say the least.

I also found my muscles were growing sore, as I realised I had gone too far on my walk. Another 10 minutes and my body began screaming that it needed a nap. STAT.

Finally home, a hot pink box with my name on the side was waiting for me.

What is this….

OH MY GOD! 7 donuts all stared back at me, as delicious and fresh as ever.

Peanut butter, glazed, fresh cinnamon, cinnamon bites, banana custard… LORD.

I carried my new friends inside and proceeded to stuff two into my mouth before I realised my stomach would likely cough them back up in minutes.

Shit.

I then slipped one into my flatmates room for later and grabbed the box, ( suddenly high on sugar ) and flew down the hill, and into a doctor’s house.

The doctor- Kristen was of course at work. So I left the box on the table with a note and petted Max ( her dog I just walked ) on the way out.

Kristen was funny in a quiet/awkward way. I had known her and Max for over a year now. She also had a partner who was a doctor which meant Max was alone for 12 hours a day, making me their go-to when their rosters clashed.

” Do you want to know something sad? ” Kristen asked, the last time she came by to grab Max.

“Um…..”

(I didn’t know if I did want to, as she was the doctor that worked with kids who had Cancer. So I always thought her idea of sad was of a different country to mine….)

” My life hasn’t changed at all with the new restrictions.”

” Oh, wow.” I said.

” Just work, Max and then home,” she said.

” Yeah, you’re right. That is…. sad.”

“Yeah.”

I always liked we didn’t do small talk. It was just honest and even humorous at times, with undertones of dog mum.

She also went above and beyond in kindness, even after a long day of work starting at 7am.

Like just this week, I had to cancel walking Max after coming back from hospital. Not only was it fine, she then offered to come over and walk my dog instead and bring me some food.

(Hence, the donuts were well deserved.)

My donut-high started to wear off half-way through an argument with my dad about racism.

” NO SIMON, I can’t believe you’d say something so stupid! ”

I knew who my dad was, but it was frustrating how resistant to change or even learning he was. It was like the world was this thing to be scared of.

” OF COURSE YOU DON’T CARE, THE WORLD IS BUILT FOR YOU.” I said.

Our loud discussions ended a lot like this, this week, after I asked him on Monday to consider donating to the Afghan women and children emergency fund.

“No. 60% is going to admin,” he said.

“Where is that stat from?”

“I’m not stupid Holly.”

“No but UNICEF is a not-for-profit organisation. They wouldn’t be so highly regarded if that were true.”

“Here, this is the link to where I donated…” I forwarded it to him.

“I can’t believe you’d donate- you’re a student!”

It sucked that I couldn’t learn anything new from my dad about the world. But I guess that’s a bonus of some parents, not all.

I mean, the job description was to raise a baby into an adult, and he did that.

It just confused me how he didn’t seem to know or care about the world or people outside his radius.

It just felt selfish the whole ignorance is bliss, blanket statement.

There were people out there and just because they didn’t look or get up the same time as you, didn’t make them any less people.

I mean, what’s the point in living, if there is no good left in the world?