Aveline
Years ago, after a miserable day at uni, I ran into Aveline just before going home. We chatted for a bit about nothing much, and then I walked into civic to catch my bus home. When I got home, I found her, sitting in a beanbag drinking tea. She had figured out that I was sad and had driven to my place to wait for me and make sure I was OK. I wasn't, not really; and she stayed with me until I could smile again.
Every spring she was in Canberra, she brought me Daphne flowers.
She used to arrive at our place in Lyneham with a bag of washing, and sid and chat and study while using our washing machine.
She used to drive to to top of Mt Ainslie and Black Mountain at night, and look out over her domain.
She was an amazing host. An amazing community builder - I met through her some of the people I love best.
She gave wonderful hugs.
She smelled like patochuli and hair product and sometimes like smoke or pot.
She gave me books to read (I still have some) and hassled me for reading materials.
She told me stories. So many stories about her life and experiances - but she always wanted to know my stories too.
She had more expressive eyes than anybody I have ever met. A glance could convey so much. Sometimes when she looked at me i felt totally enveloped by love.
She could be so delicate and sensitive in her communication. She could be reticent, almost shy, on occasion.
She never turned her back on policemen.
When we were walking somewhere, she would often take my hand and hold it tightly.
She wore a garnet ring inherited from "loopy Lucy" a great aunt who behaved in a way totally unconventional for a woman of her time.
She knew me well enough that she refused to tolerate any of my crap. she always found the best way to tell me to pull my head in.
She was one of the gentlest people I ever met. That doesn't even feel like a paradox to me.
She was my friend. I loved her.
Every spring she was in Canberra, she brought me Daphne flowers.
She used to arrive at our place in Lyneham with a bag of washing, and sid and chat and study while using our washing machine.
She used to drive to to top of Mt Ainslie and Black Mountain at night, and look out over her domain.
She was an amazing host. An amazing community builder - I met through her some of the people I love best.
She gave wonderful hugs.
She smelled like patochuli and hair product and sometimes like smoke or pot.
She gave me books to read (I still have some) and hassled me for reading materials.
She told me stories. So many stories about her life and experiances - but she always wanted to know my stories too.
She had more expressive eyes than anybody I have ever met. A glance could convey so much. Sometimes when she looked at me i felt totally enveloped by love.
She could be so delicate and sensitive in her communication. She could be reticent, almost shy, on occasion.
She never turned her back on policemen.
When we were walking somewhere, she would often take my hand and hold it tightly.
She wore a garnet ring inherited from "loopy Lucy" a great aunt who behaved in a way totally unconventional for a woman of her time.
She knew me well enough that she refused to tolerate any of my crap. she always found the best way to tell me to pull my head in.
She was one of the gentlest people I ever met. That doesn't even feel like a paradox to me.
She was my friend. I loved her.