It's Sunday

Nobody is probably ever going to read this I'm assuming, and I don't mind because I'm doing this to keep myself from lapsing into a depression. I'm trying not to shrivel up and waste away with loneliness. I'm a Libran!! I function best in a relationship. I need love, intimacy, conversation. Don't we all?
I'm doing this for me, because I've never told my story before. In the past I have tried, but haven't been believed, so I ended up inventing a more believable me.
My believable story goes like this: - We moved to Melbourne because my Dad's family owned a factory in Richmond. They needed his qualified engineering skills to maintain and upgrade the automated factory equipment. It was a clothing industry factory.
I attended a very lofty Anglican private girls school near St Kilda. I took a train and then tram to get there from the Dandenong ranges, or sometimes my Dad would drop me if he wasn't running late for work. I started nursing training but quit because I fainted at the sight of blood. So then travelled extensively over the world, settled back in Newcastle where I met my professional husband who now pays huge school fees for an exclusive Anglican School where our kids go, or have gone.
Some is true, some isn't.
Today is Sunday. I have walked around a small nearbye lake using my water bottle as a dumbell, mainly for my weaker right arm. I'm left handed. I stopped at three of the four exercise stations. I love that colourful gym equipment. Trees and birds, tranquil water, rushes to look out on; it's the best gym in the world. Then I drew out some money from the bank, drove to a hardware shop in my eldest son's small 'bomb' car just to keep it running; he lives in Melbourne and at last passed his driving test when he was here a few weeks back. Over the Christmas brake he is going to have to get his hours up; that is twenty-five hours sitting next to a qualified driver, not a "P" plater. Then a computer test then he'll be on "P" s. Hooray!
I bought a long handed squeeqee and a rectangular bucket. I cleaned most of my high front windows from a step ladder. I have a beautiful view from my home of leafy suburbs, and lights at night. I then vacuumed both cars.

Here is more of my real story. We are back in Newcastle and I'm still under twelve years old. An Aunt and Uncle came to visit from Melbourne; Dad's brother and his wife. The Aunt seemed to like me. She promised to send me a hairbrush by post. We all used a communal hairbrush kept in a jar in the kitchen. I waited and waited, beside myself with excitement. The parcel was not mentioned. Eventually I asked Mum and Dad, but they turned on me shouting wrathful accusations of greed and wanton materialism. I needed to forget about the parcel. A long time later I was given the hairbursh.
Fear governed my relationship with Dad. We knew to be careful not to act like we cared about anything otherwise it would be taken from us. We had to be tough. He was teaching us how to be good, tough little communists and to blame the 'state'. It wasn't him, making our lives a misery, it was the system.
Mum had only the capacity for navel gazing. She dwelled and focused on her needs and seemed incapable of 'seeing' that anybody else existed. Later, when Stephen was getting mentally sick he would often retort when being verbally attacked which was the main form of communication in our house; "You don't see me."
None of us 'saw' or cherished each other.

Wow! I have been tidying up the lounge and dining area because the daughter of the elderly couple next door knocked at my open door. The screen is propped open with a door stop for the cats, although the cat from across the road takes advantage of this and treats our home and food as its own. But my neighbors daughter didn't come in, just opened the screen and knocked on the wooden door which is what I heard. She is over once again from Brisbane and has bought them a bigger flat screen TV so the smaller flat screen TV needs a new home and did I want it. I am relatively cashless and a flat screen TV would never have been bought by me in the near future. She stepped in and had a look at my small, old fashioned deep, box-like tv. The room had clutter all around it and a mattress on the floor with a crumpled doona as if someone had slept there, books, cut up paper from my art, school clothes over the arms of chairs. We sit on the mattress to watch tv or read or do homework. The wicker chairs and couch or pretty uncomfortable.
I asked how much and she said I could have it. I thanked her and said a big 'yes' with a hug. So the room is now ready for when her brother comes later. She will get him to carry it over. I have the Lava lamps going; blue and bright green, two table fountains running. One is a waterwheel beneath a mountain, the other, black cups on a wide plate stand, one cup builds on the other, four in all up to the top where water bubbles down. Pebbles are clustered around the base of both fountains. All the clothes have been put away or hidden in other rooms.,
The place is neat, clean and uncluttered and I'm only sorry my ex-husband and a number of ex-boyfriends aren't here to see it now. The tv has been delivered. It is quite deep too and only marginally larger than my old one, but it is flat screened so can be viewed from any angle. That, is one step closer into the modern world of tv. I pressed upon my neighbor's daughter a bag of cards, fridge magnets, mounted prints and soap; all my own work. We hugged again along with the other two people with her; her sister-in-law because the brother was playing golf, and my elderly neighbor Harry.

Back to my story.
One Christmas I was given a doll with long golden plaits. Dad told me not to undo the plaits. I tried not to. In the end I ran out of ways to play with her so undid them to see her hair. Dad discovered me in my room with the doll's hair undone, and he hit the roof. I tried to re-plait the hair but it never looked the same again.
At one point in time I remember sobbing very loudly in my bed and calling to Mum to come and sleep with me. She did come in and get under the covers with me and stayed for a little while then returned to her double bed with Dad. When I called and sobbed again she didn't come back.