Journal by Olga Nunes

Somewhere in the South

Folded in warm silence, I am laying alone in bed in strange country. Cats prowl and rest about my feet, while a great green lizard climbs above my head.

It is my second day in Charleston, and I have opted out of the evening’s festivities, feeling both tired and restless. Moments after my hosts departed, I got a call that my apartment has mysteriously flooded in my absence. I’m not sure if it is better or worse that I am away, though it seems everything points to me needing to take some sort of vacation at the moment.

The last several weeks have become more still, and more resonatingly sad than I am used to. The Friday before I was to go out of town, my husband took me to a Christmas dinner party. When I arrived through the door, streamers came flying at me and people appeared at all sides, screaming “Surprise!” and throwing confetti.

I about had a heart attack.

I realized I was at a birthday party. My birthday party. My surprise birthday party.

For a girl born on New Year’s Day, you can imagine that few people would, in light of the festivities, generally remember my birthday. So over the years since being quite small, I’ve had a long-standing fantasy of being thrown a surprise party in my honor, as it would be the best way in one brilliant gesture to be really remembered for one day.

I’ve never told anyone.

I was warmed to the bone for what my husband did for me. The gathering was very small, and cherished. I will never forget it.

As it is, Charleston is growing colder, and it is said that snow is coming this weekend. The town is silvery with tiny lights, and everyone smiles slow smiles, and walks as if they have all the time in the world. It reminds me of New Orleans, but smaller, safer, quieter. I want to walk alone on King Street and take in the ghosts that live there, see what I might learn before I leave.

Posted by Olga at December 22, 2004 11:43 PM