“Do I laugh in chuckles or giggles?” I asked Jeff as he took the exit out the roundabout.

I always distract him with these questions. Questions about myself that I suddenly ponder on at any random street during our drives. A luxury activity when you have someone doing the driving for you.

I don’t believe he ever got back to me on that.

I think I laugh in giggles. To answer my own question.

The car smelled of Afghan garlic bread. Freshly made. Steaming through the parchment paper they were wrapped in. We were on our way to celebrate Hang’s birthday and that was our contribution to the picnic.

A gorgeous day. Blue sky. White clouds. But still bloody cold.

The view was incredible, though.

Given enough time, Hang’s people are my kind of people. Picnics at the park. Tarot cards. Ginger and turmeric tea. Woo-woo shit.

But my shyness oftentimes get the best of me, limiting my world to those within close proximity. I cherish those interactions anyway. I mean what I say when I tell new acquaintances they have gorgeous curls. Or that I think they’re beautiful.

Every woman deserves to be complimented by other women. For all my shyness, I always make it a point to muster the courage to tell someone they’re beautiful. A bit tricky when they’re random strangers as I don’t wanna come off sounding like a lesbian either.

I compliment them still anyway.

Hang’s one of my first few friends here in Australia, courtesy of Jeff. She’s bubbles and belly dancing. Yellow and youth. A free spirit.

She has a good heart. One of those rare ones you can talk to and have a proper conversation, you know what I mean? Right from the get-go, I’ve always felt comfortable with her. Even when I wasn’t very comfortable in my own skin yet, finding my way in a brand new country and stumbling through the language barriers because English obviously isn’t my first language, she gave me a safe space to simply be myself and to express my thoughts no matter how disjointed they got after having to translate them into English.

I know I don’t see her much and I’m partly to blame for that but whenever I do, it’s always a pleasure. Except maybe for that time she came over and I suspected I had COVID so I was wearing an N95 the whole time and hoping she wouldn’t catch it. It didn’t even faze her. I suppose COVID was nothing compared to her near-death experience she was telling me about at the time.

Her friend at the picnic offered a reading. I drew the Queen of Wands. A card for strong, independent women who grab life by the balls as they forge their own paths filled with zest and adventure.

I must’ve gotten the wrong card. I don’t know what the universe was thinking.

Aside from Raven panicking over a labrador coming a bit too close for her comfort, it was a beautiful day for a picnic and Ferntree Gully Quarry Recreation Reserve was the perfect spot for it. A very long name for a somewhat small-ish place I would have never known existed had Hang not invited us there.

*Raven at 7 years old