Rod's Ramblings: Other Perspectives
Created | Updated Dec 21, 2014
Rod's all packed and ready to go, but still has time for a story
This morning I was feeling a bit low.
You know, shipping container out front with all my furniture & belongings in it, except for a chest of drawers and a bedside cabinet in the garage.
Great big four-bedroom house, empty except for the carpets and except for the curtain rails and curtains that I've just put back after a couple of weeks' visitations by the EarthQuakeRecovery people - minor repairs, filling, smoothing, painting... a virtually new house virtually empty except for little me.
Poor old Rod. Are you feeling sorry for him? Just a teeny little bit sympathetic, maybe?
The last job to be done is nearly done – fill, smooth & paint the triangular fascia above the two garages (well, the outer one is my workshop).
I leave the front door unlocked, so the men can use the bathroom and I met one of them in the hall.
He asked about my being on my little own in this big place and got the (edited) story of No1 Son & Ms Stress dying 11 days apart... still feeling sympathy? Ah, that's the way...
This morning I was feeling a bit low.
At the moment I'm numb. I don't feel anything except that I must send this in:
I don't know where he went, how he survived, how he got here, how he ended up as a tradesman filler/painter – and I won't be asking.
He doesn't know where the others went or what happened to them.
He's from Cambodia. He was the youngest of twelve children and he was four years old at the time that they were out and...
His mother stepped on a landmine.
