October 3, 2010 by jessperriam
“I should like to bury something precious in every place where I’ve been happy and then, when I was old and ugly and miserable, I could come back and dig it up and remember”
– Evelyn Waugh: Brideshead Revisited
I’m going to be the first to admit that I have no idea where I’m going with this post.
I read this quote (in one of the Thirty before Thirty books) in a quiet moment (there weren’t many) on the South West road trip. And I guess it sums up how I feel about life at the moment.
To a point.
I’m in a very happy place right now. An uncertain-ish kind of place, but a happy, wonder-filled place nonetheless.
I think I would soon run out of precious somethings to bury, such is the sheer volume of places I’ve been happy. There would be holes all over the place, some in the strangest, potentially inappropriate places.
There would be a Stevie Wonder album in a hole where the Forrest Highway and Kwinana Freeway meet to mark the moment of happiness when The Lawyer and El Presidente played Sir Duke from their car stereo, down the line to Red’s phone on loudspeaker in my car. Call it a low-quality, high-hilarity phone call sing along.
There would be a button in a hole in the backyard of a cottage in Wagga Wagga to symbolise many, many happy moment spent being creative, growing up and exploring during a brilliant time of mine, Lauren and Nick’s life.
I’d get the shovel out in what’s now a stranger’s front yard in Orange and bury a SingStar microphone just outside the window where Amy and I no doubt serenaded many, many bemused neighbours with John Farnham’s You’re the Voice or Alice Cooper’s Poison on Fast Food Fridays.
And there would be myriad other holes, and an equal amount of precious things to go in them.
And I said I agreed with the quote to a point. I’d love to bury things to mark the happiness.
But as for being old and ugly and miserable? I’m going to get old. Hopefully I won’t become (too) ugly. And miserable? Certainly not! I would hate to think that life and sheer time wears you down to misery.
I’d rather get my hands dirty way down the hypothetical track in order to fondly reminisce rather than bitterly remember.
Where would you dig your holes and what precious somethings would you put in them?