My aunt has a beautiful lush green and romantically coloured garden that hides away her little home from obvious sight. It looks even more spectacular at night after the rain has poured through every petal, branch and leaf. When I slip in through the back gate after a long late night of study and procastination at uni, I'm welcomed by the bright sensor lights that shine from the top corner of the back door. It is a welcoming that I have been anticipating on the 30 minute bus ride home. The pitch black trek through the long spikey and itchy bushes and the uneven sharp stones in the front garden to the back gate becomes worth the slight scratches and small dirt patches as I enter into the light which signifies that I am finally safe, that I am finally home.
The softly dimmed light and the rain that causes the flowers to sparkle and dance under the night sky composes something like a dream, something mysterious and playful. The freshly nourished flowers and plants reveal their delicacy and vunerability in this light. They draw me to their absolute detail and soon I find myself dropping my things on the doorstep and retreating into the wet colours of the rainbow. However, whats different about this particular night is that...I'm locked out. For the next 3o minutes I'm amused by how different the shades of cream, white, purple, pink and red seem to look under the dim lighting of the sensor light. I marvel at the loosely arranged flowers along the fence, trying to take pictures with my iphone so that I can remember as much of this moment as I can. Then when the cold rain starts to break into a loud, crashing fall I snap back to reality. I spy that the bathroom window has been left open, perfect that's my in. I've encountered moments like these too many a day, a night and a time, to the extent that being locked outside doesn't scare me anymore because I know that there's always a way in. And its funny because while I prepare my "in" I always think to myself "If someone asked me for a random fact about myself, I would have to say I am unbelievably good at breaking into my own house".
As I hoist myself up onto the window pane, I am oh so careful not to tread on the roses and the orchids that lay dangerously close to the minimum foot space needed for a successful "in". I am successful and welcomed by another light, bedroom light, ah yes nothing has shone brighter and warmer. So note to self people...watch wear you tread.
Picture: (2) striped sheer socks - Sportsgirl, Tan Brogues - Urban Outfitters