Olga's Star

This is the real estate office just up the hill from our flat. It's always the brightest-lit place in a little row of shops that includes a small grocery (once a newsagent) and a cleaning supply store (once a mysterious place of uncertain purpose called The White Room). When I look out the dining room window at night, the estate agent's office is there, about half a block away, shining like a blue beacon. It's comforting.

I got out and took a walk yesterday morning. My original purpose was to get bread, because Dave forgot it when he ordered groceries. But I'd spent the whole morning indoors, partly reading a new book called "All the Colours of the Dark" by Chris Whitaker, and I felt the need to get some fresh air. I extended my route to the store by roaming up to the cemetery and then northward through Child's Hill Park and back home -- a little more than an hour of walking.

I found this intriguingly decorated car along the way. I'd love to see it lit up. Is the asymmetrical application of the wrapping paper intentional?

And then there was this weirdness:

Like all my walking routes, this one made me miss Olga, who often accompanied me through the same streets in her younger years. I haven't talked much about Olga on the ol' blog recently, but I feel her absence every day. It's hard to believe it's been five months already, and I still question her last days and whether I could have done anything differently. I'm not sure those doubts will ever go away.

Dave and I are still talking about getting another dog, but now that we're planning our Italy trip for next summer, we may wait until after that. I'm still in a mourning stage, I think. I don't want another dog, I want my old one back! Maybe that's a sign that it's still too early.

I was walking Olga last January on the high street when I found that little light-up star, shown above in our dining room window, lying on the pavement. One of the charity shops had thrown it out, I think -- probably a bit of Christmas decor that never sold. It still worked, so I brought it home and put it on our mantel, and this season I've put it in the window and turned it on. It's quite a sophisticated little thing -- it even has a timer so that it shines only when it's dark out. It's probably supposed to make me think of Baby Jesus, but instead it makes me think of Olga.