One weekend, when we were here together, Ali painted the view. I wish I’d asked to have it. It wasn’t as if we didn’t talk about death, her death, but it didn’t seem appropriate to say ‘when you die, can I have that painting?’!
Today the sea is flat and grey. The sky light blue, with a white streak as though someone has dragged their paintbrush across the canvas. No boats out, other than two tankers on the horizon. And helicopter count 1.
No birds on the deck the last two days – is it too cold despite the sunshine? From time to time though, a unseen family of kookaburras cracks up about something.
I’ve got less than 24 more hours to contemplate my future – but that’s another post…