On Winter Fortnight

Part 1

It's the middle of winter, but I'm okay with that. The fire is roaring and I have a hot cup of Milo - one of the few perks of still living at home even though I'm nearly 27. Mum and Dad are watching TV quietly - showing their affection to each other by holding pinkies and nothing more. My twin sisters, Audrey and Gwen, are over for the night. They come and stay with us at least once a month - Mum still has their teenage bedroom arranged exactly how they left it; two single beds made up with 70s style crochet blankets and too many pillows to actually use, a shared bookshelf with trinkets gathering dust, withering notes and posters stuck to the walls, and just one lamp that just barely lights the room. My room is not the same, although it hasn't been updated but 'down-dated' - Dad likes to say. Boxes of my things stacked high around the edges, with a mattress on the floor in the middle like I had built myself a fortress, and at the foot of that a plastic container that acted as my desk for study. 

I'm looking at the last few mouthfuls left of Milo, about to swirl it around to catch the last drops of chocolate goodness, when it starts to tremble. The world starts to hum and I can feel the couch sway slightly. We're all used to the quakes now, some people are saying a big one is coming but they've been happening as long as I can remember. Something about where we sit on the fault lines. Audrey and Gwen look at each other and speak their invisible language, Dad shrugs and sighs while turning the volume on the TV way down. We all listen for an alarm - an alarm I've never actually heard - the alarm to tell us it's time to panic. But, like usual, it's all over in a matter of seconds and back to normal. 

"Bet you don't miss these quakes, girls." Mum says, without an air of concern at all. 

"I never minded them, but not sure how Mojo would feel about them." Gwen replies. 

Mojo is her black Labrador, Audrey has a brown one named Jojo. Gwen and Audrey have been living up north for about 6 months now. They're the epitome of those twins who look, act, and achieve the exact same. They both studied biology, now have jobs in plant nurseries, play volleyball, dog loving-brunette-wild-stunning, and chronically single. I, on the other hand, have had a long line of serious boyfriends. And each one ending in such a way that I had to move back home. Start over. Find myself again. I see the pattern of thrusting my whole existence into another person, changing my goals and hobbies in the hopes that will forge an intensely romantic never-ending love, which it never does. 

I've just started a new course in photography, and am thinking about popping off to my 'desk' to get some more work done on the latest assignment when Dad takes his glasses off. This always means it's time for bed. 

"Rightio. I'm off to bed, that's enough excitement for me for one day." Mum chuckles lightly because we all know, there was nothing exciting about today. Normal, old, uneventful day. Mugs clink as they're carried towards the kitchen, sisters whisper about their plans for tomorrow. Crickets chirp and the fire crackles. I love the comfort these familiar noises bring.