Yesterday, it just seemed like yesterday that I was a fiancé, a happy bubbly full time university student so in love with my man, the person that I was going to spend the rest of my time with.  But it wasn’t just yesterday, it was this exact time last year, this exact date and that is why it is only a memory now.  I hold the glass in front of me, not my first by now, while the barman, who has also become my friend in the last two hours stands ready to refill it.  “Do you believe all it took for me to not be a fiancé, happy anymore was just one split second in time...opening just one door...and seeing her straddling him” I slurred to him.  “It only takes one split second to change your life again Cassidy, just go for it, get on line and buy the ticket, it will take one split second” he says to me smiling.  I give him a smirk, he doesn’t know me, even if I just told him my whole life story, leaving out all my deep seeded insecurities I hold.  Feelings about having no parents, being raised by my Nanna, never having a best friend, being addicted to chatting on line instead of facing people...I could go on and on.  He doesn’t know I just can’t leave Nan like that. 

I look back at my drink in my hand, and decide this wasn’t getting me no-where except a bloody awful head-ache tomorrow.  “I’m going...it was nice talking to you...um Dean was it?” I say as I attempt to get up gracefully, but not succeeding.  “My shift has finished, can I walk you home?” he says as he moves down the end of the bar.  “No...it is only up the road...I’ll be right...” I say thinking I’m moving fast towards the door but really not moving much at all.  He picks up my arm “come on sweetie let me help you.”  Dean is way older than me.  I know I shouldn’t let him but I know I shouldn't be walking by myself either.  “I live with my Nanna, she has cancer, the next door neighbor it looking after her, they gave me the night off, and I just wasted it thinking about him and I can’t just buy a ticket to America and leave Nan, I am all she has.”  Dean just listens to me, he doesn’t say anything, just listens.  When we get to the front terrace he looks up at the house.  “This is so cute, but I bet it is hard to maintain with all that wrought iron?” “Um...yes it is a pain in the bum and Nan thinks she can hose it down like everyday, so you can imagine the water bill!” I say standing back in no hurry to go inside. 

He then leans in and reads the ‘Room for Let‘ sign that has been sitting there for the last few weeks.  Before he says anything I answer his curiosity “Nan’s idea... she usually has international students lease the room, but with her age they don’t want her having to look after anyone anymore, so she has decided to find someone, anyone...and it is her house so I can’t say anything, just make sure it isn’t some creep.”  He looks at me then back at the sign.  “Do you think I’m a creep?” I lean back and study him slightly unbalanced.  “NO, you are nice, you listened to all my crap tonight...why? Should I be worried standing here, in the middle of the night, half pissed with you?” I say taking a step back.  “No, but I’m looking at somewhere to move to and this is near work...can I come back tomorrow and meet your Nan?” I look at him again, then wave my hand slightly dismissing him.  “Yeah, whatever...I suppose so” I say as I start rummaging in my bag for my keys.  “See you tomorrow morning then Cass...” he says as I open the door.  I just give him a good-bye hand wave.  I don't even get changed I just slump down on my bed and sleep comes quickly.  

Within the week of meeting him Dean moves in and became a valuable and great friend to both Nan and I.  He is actually a nurse, and now he lives closer to the hospital, got himself a nursing position, so he really helps me with Nan the following year, while unfortunately cancer rapes her body.  I change my Uni course to evening classes to be with her in the day, then Dean helps at night.  I took over Deans bar position, and I help in a local art gallery on the week-ends.  I slowly forget about my heart break, but am very wary of ever allowing myself the false happiness again.  What was I thinking anyway.  I would never of been able to marry and move away, not with Nan sick like this, completing Uni and having to work...there would of not been anytime for a husband...it was probably a blessing in disgust to catch him cheating on me...Nan thinks it was because she didn’t like him anyway.  She said my paintings were sad canvasses, not happy like a person in love.  At the time I didn’t agree but after she died I looked back at my stack of canvasses in my art room down in the basement, they were all pretty sad so I painted over all of them with black paint.  I imagined my Nan would of love seeing me get rid of this part of my past.

The last few years Facebook had been my only escape from reality.  Chatting with people all around the world, them telling me things, me telling them things, they became absent friends, friends without faces, friends in my mind.   They are people that have something in common with me, even if it was coping with someone with cancer, or getting over heart-break and lets face it, if you didn’t like what they had to say you could just easily just get rid of them.  I was never going to catch them cheating, even though I did quite often wonder just how many women the men spoke to.  I would never have to see them thru sickness, I didn't have to hug them or greet them...they were just there in front of me on a flat screen computer screen.

But had one special boy I spoke to more than the rest, which is why I had my mind set on visiting America...I wasn’t stupid about it, I wasn’t going to go and let someone else break my heart, I just felt like I needed to explore all my options.  So when Nan passed away, and my Uni course was finishing up, and also while I stood listening to a girl across from me in the bar talking about her heart-break I decided in that split second it was time to go.

MY FIRST DAY:-

“What the frigg! Your not a boy, your a girl that looks like a boy” I say rather loudly in the bakery I’m standing in.  The person across the counter who was suppose to be a boy, and who clearly isn’t, looks at me in shock.  “It’s me Cassidy...surprise” I say sarcastically.  The boy-girl excuses herself, walks around the counter and ushers me outside.  By now he, I mean she is looking pretty angry.  “I can’t believe it is you? Why did you surprise me like this? If I had known you were going to travel all the way from Australia to meet me, I would of told you the truth.”  “What? That you are a girl that just looks like a boy? Why didn’t you just tell me from the beginning? I would of been your friend, we all need friends, but you lead me to believe you were a boy looking for a relationship with a girl, not a girl looking for a girl...sorry but I like boys” I said trying to keep calm, and feeling like a dickhead.  “Can we talk about this after work? Do you want to go to my place and wait? Where are you staying? Don’t end our friendship like this, please Cassidy I really like you.  Wait here while I go and write down the address, you can grab a cab.”  I couldn’t stand here for one more second, I could feel my eyes starting to well, I turned my head and looked up the busy street, then I glance over and spot the railway line, I knew then that I was not going to hang around.

By the time he, I mean she had gone inside to write down her address I had walked away fast, well as fast as I could with a suitcase on wheels and a backpack attached.  I nearly get run over not thinking about looking for traffic opposite to Australia and successfully disappear from sight behind a parked truck.  I could hear her yelling out for me, looking up and down like she had lost her dog.  I wait for to go back into the bakery, for the coast to be clear, and walk quickly towards the train station.  I sit on the train, get out my phone, log on to Facebook and delete her off my site.  And within five minutes she had in-boxed me asking me to come back.  But I felt so stupid.  I considered myself a confident person by now, I have had to face quite a lot in the last few years, so this shouldn't worry me, but it did.  I thought about what just happened while I sat in the train.  That is why we had so much in common, other than she liked to bake cakes, she was a girl of course she knew how to talk to me.  I flick thru my other FB friends wondering just how many of them aren't who they say they are.  I watch the towns zoom past until the train slows down into an area with quite a few car yards.  I suddenly had an epiphany.   If I bought a cheap camper van, at least I would have somewhere to sleep and I could get far away from here.  I get out at the next stop, swing my backpack over my shoulder, pull the handle up on my suitcase, which housed most of my art equipment and start walking towards the first car yard, weaving my way thru the cars towards the back of the yard, without falling over. 

Which camper I would buy completely depends on the man that tries to sell it to me.  I had got through life so far having a feeling about the person in front of me and up until about an hour ago I had thought I was good at it.  I should not be so hard on myself, I had never met any of my FB friends, so how was I to know he was a she.  As I checked out the campers most suited to my price range an older looking dark skinned man approaches me.  He opens the drivers door up and lets me sit in it, showed me all the room in the back, how to put the bed down, and all the extra attachments it possessed.   He knew its history like it was his own, with me finding out that he had owned one just like it years ago, regretting ever parting with it.  His fondness for the van sold me, instead of him finding out what I needed, I felt that the van needed an owner like me. 

As I sat inside exchanging paperwork he told me the closest place to drive to so I could stock the fridge and cupboards, where the closest fuel was, how far I should go today before it got dark, even the best place to park overnight.  After he had finished I smiled politely at him thinking, ‘ok Dad.’  He wished me luck, I thanked him, set my phone up on its holder, got on google maps and started heading towards the ocean.  By the first hour after a few impatient horn blowing road rages, who didn’t realise that I wasn’t use to driving on this side of the road, in this side of the car I made it to my first destination.  After I slept for at least twenty hours, I woke.  I stretched a little and let myself think about the last couple of days.   I slid open the side door, got out,  looking around at the empty campsite.  I could see the ocean in front of me but could hear the busy city behind me.  I stood and let the sun shine on my face, enjoying the breeze blowing my hair all around.  I checked my phone for any messages, knowing perfectly well no one would of missed me.  I had just up and left Australia after my sweet old Nan had passed away, leaving me everything she owned which ended up quite a lot but not leaving me with the only thing I wanted, which was one living breathing family member, just one would of done.   I suppose this is what happens when you are given up as a baby, and as the older generations die off, your chances of ever knowing gets further in the distance.  My Nan had raised me, never hearing from her daughter again, that was it, and that is what I had to accept. 

At this very second in time, I really had no-one, and only had one close friend, Dean.  He was going to stay at Nan's while I was here.  I was letting him live there rent free, after all I owed him that much.  He had looked after Nan with me until the end.  I use to stay at home during the day, clean, cook and kept Nan company, then at night I attended school finishing my Art Degree.  And Dean would help me out with Nan.  On the weekends I worked at a local art gallery during the day, then worked in the local pub in the evening, once again Dean would help me most times, and if he couldn't, we had a lovely neighbor that was always willing to help.  But once Nan died we both knew I would need to break away from there, find a little piece of me, see if there was any hope for my FB boy to shed a little light in my life.  Dean had encouraged me at first, but he was sad when the time actually came.  I got out a plastic bowl and spoon that I had bought yesterday, grabbed the cereal, the one that looked as similar as the one I ate back home, poured some milk on, and sat and thought a little bit more.  So now my FB friend isn't a he and a she I didn’t know which way to turn, which direction do I even drive to today.  All I knew is I couldn't go back, not yet.  I took a deep breathe and told myself it’s will be alright, well, hoped it would.

I finished my cereal then stretched the paper map I had out on the picnic table, deciding I would drive three to four hours a day and see where I ended up.  I was going to stay off the freeways, and stick to the small roads, stop when I needed rest, eat when I was hungry, and paint when I felt inspired to do so.  I didn’t want to stick to any routine, I wanted to feel free for a while.  I could see the sun starting to set, and realised I was eating cereal at four in the afternoon.  I knew it would set quickly so I grabbed a few tubes of paint, a couple of brushes, the largest canvas I had found at the Walmart I had shopped in and set myself up to paint.  It felt so calming spreading the paint back and forth over the canvas, blending the colours smoothly together forming there own colours, then working my way down the canvas using darker colours that looked like the ocean in front of me.  I spoke to myself like my Nan was standing next to me ‘not bad hey Nan, it was so easy to do such a peaceful piece for once, I wish you could see it, and I hope you have found peace" I sniffled a bit 'you would of loved this one.’

After, and while it was still reasonably light I walked into the little town nearby.  I found a quaint little pizza parlour, sat in there and ate a pizza, walked back to the camper and had an early night, trying to get my body use to the local time.  I was surprised just how comfortable my little camper was.  After a good night sleep, the next morning I headed out.  Within an hour of driving up the west coast of this country I was totally inspired.  I ended up only driving an average of two hours a day needing a two day stopover at most places, never finding enough light in one day to paint.  I didn’t think of my boy/girl FB friend again but did answer her inbox message telling her I was sorry about the misunderstanding and I was ok.   I would never be able to live knowing I hurt her feelings, even if she had hurt mine.  But maybe this was my destiny, my freedom forced on to me.   I didn’t even check my phone again for the next few weeks.  I didn’t miss as much as I thought I would, I did miss however having a kitchen.  Camp kitchens were just not quite the same as Nan’s, the one thing other than painting that I really loved doing, cooking.  So by the time I had made it to San Francisco I seriously wanted to find somewhere to crash out that had four walls, a kitchen and maybe a television, oh and a bath-tub would be just perfect.

I had become accustomed to asking locals for information, and so far I had never been lead astray.  I had been told by a lovely lady in one of the small towns not to miss the sea lions.  I had been told by a lovely gentleman not to miss the Forte.  I had been told by numerous people not to miss the Redwood forests.  I had been guided by locals and my map and had found my trip so far very inspirational.  I pulled over for fuel on the outskirts of San Francisco with the attendant telling me about a friend who needs a house-sitter for a few weeks, jotting down an address for me and even ringing them to arrange a meeting.  So I weaved my way thru the busy city, parked my van out front of the address, met the couple who needed a sitter for their house and dog, unpacked my stuff, locked up the van and was looking forward to getting to know this beautiful city.

By the end of the week, walking around every day,  I had found a market where I could sell my paintings, which had accumulated.  Successfully selling nearly all of them in the first few hours.  By lunch time I started to pack up.  I had reluctantly tucked my favourite painting to my side, hoping this would not sell today it ended up being the day I had to part with it.  I knew I would have to like the person who bought it, and the elderly man who did was so nice.  He told me he was buying it for his grand kids new place and that I reminded him of his grand daughter so much.  Then he shoved too much money in my hand.  I tried giving some of the money back but he would not accept it telling me to go and buy something special with the money.  I hadn’t needed for money lately but would maybe buy someone else’s art, support the community that I loved so much.  I sauntered around the market talking to the other clever artists there.  I was feeling peaceful and happy for once in my life.

During the next week I ended up having a crash course on spray can painting by one of the local street vendors right there in the street.  So with the extra money the old man had given me I bought myself one of his pieces, thanking him for his time.  I then bought some of my own supplies to have a go at this in my travels.  Nearly seven weeks had gone by.  I had sent Dean a short message each week so he knew I was still alive, but had not spoken to him about how I was feeling.  I knew I had lost a bit of weight, but was feeling less stressed about things, and had noticed this by the way I was painting.  My paintings seemed more peaceful, maybe a little more colorful, not so sad.  Nan use to know how I was feeling by the way I painted.  She would of been happy to see my paintings being sold, hanging in a room making someone happy each time they looked at it, filling a spot in their house to be enjoyed.

After two weeks, a lot of long dog walks, a lot of cooking, a few more extra FB friends in my phone, my time here was up.  I got out my map the last day and decided to stick to the coast road until I got sick of the ocean.       
                
Another month past by and I had made it all the way into Oregon close to the Canadian border.  I was getting over-run with canvasses, almost having to sleep on top of them, I needed to stop and sell them again.  So like before I settled in a bigger city, this time it was Seattle, and again finding a place to babysit for a few weeks, then finding a market place on the weekend to sell my pieces.  It was never for the money that I sold my canvasses but for the shear pleasure of someone appreciating the beauty that I could portray on the canvas.  I dabbled a little in the spray can art I had learnt, selling a few of these also.  In Seattle I ended up learning how to do chalk art on the street pavements.  People would step around both the artist and their piece of art, enjoying how clever and different people see things in life and are able to put it a picture.  Once again I loved having a kitchen and even had a few dinner parties for some of the local artists that I had become friends with. 

I was now going to head back towards Los Angeles but this time I was going to leave the coast, and go inland.  The mountain ranges and tall tree forests were spectacular, and now my inspiration.  By the time I had made my way back in to the State of California, I knew it wouldn't be long before I would have to have another sale day.  My days had been filled with just pulling over where ever I felt like, painting what ever I felt like, eating when I wanted to and sleeping a good eight hours every night.  I was becoming more confident talking with strangers now and again.  But missed having a in depth conversation with a friend.  My FB friends would chat with me digitally but hearing another persons voice, even touching another person I missed.

Days went by quickly, but at night I had time to think about things that I missed from home.  I always missed my Nan, nearly everything I did I felt her looking over my shoulder, guiding me.  I missed Dean for his funny conversations.  He would always ask me how I was feeling, always trying to make me take time out for myself.  I never did know his age but I always assumed he was about forty.  I knew he was a dedicated nurse, I don’t think he was ever married but had a long term lady friend.  I suppose he was like a father to me, just a young one.  I know he cared for me like one, but just without the family tie.  He probably didn’t boss me around like a real dad would of, and he never told me what to do but was good at gentle persuasion, with most times finding out that my mind was already made up.  Yep probably the same as a real dad relationship with a pre-adult daughter.

I had left him in the house free of rent while I was gone, but had told him the house is up for sale.  By the time I finally got on line to check my bank account a rather large sum of money had been deposited into it.  When I asked Dean, he had put it in their for the sale of the house to him, and the paperwork was waiting for me at home.  He trusted me completely, like I trusted him, I suppose a bit like a Dad would of looked after his daughter.  I had been gone nearly three months by now, so I worked out the time difference and gave him a call.  He was so happy to hear about my adventures so far, and I was happy to hear he had invited his lady friend to move in.  We joked and talked and I realised that talking to someone close to me was something else I had missed horribly.

I ended up stopping at Napa Valley for the next few weeks.  The straight rows of vines stretching out over the flat plains with a neat tree lines dividing the properties, looking like a patchwork quilt.  This was once again being very inspirational.  Also again one of the locals let me know one of the vineyards that was looking for a cook for a few weeks, something I knew I would love to do.  I put the address into my phone letting it guide me thru the well manicured hills and lush flat land.  I pulled up, walking into the front entry, found the correct person to talk to and was advised to park out the park near the kitchen.  So I parked my camper out the back of the building and made myself familiar with the kitchen.  

The young lady about my age walked me thru the rules and regulations.  I was to follow a standard menu but every so often I could splurge and make a cake if I wanted to.  She told me everyone on the staff would thoroughly enjoy this, giggling a little.  She was basically my boss and her name was Madeline.  She seemed really nice.  She had been managing this vineyard for a few years now.  Madeline ended up being a really beautiful girl inside and out, and thought I was funny, especially my accent.  Our friendship grew close rather quickly.  She lived on the premises for four days, then went home to San Francisco the other three days.  She would sit in the kitchen with me after closing time where I would cook us dinner.  She would pull a bottle of wine out from the counter and we would talk for hours.  She was so easy to talk to, maybe a little lonely living up here, with her letting me know that I am her saviour most nights.  Her brother was renovating their house back home, so she like to stay out of his way, and he also liked this plan.  She would often show me photo’s of the room he had finished, he looked like he was really clever with a great eye for style.

While I sat with her one evening while she waited for her brother to pick her up, sitting showing me all the renovations was when in one of these photos that I spotted something that made my heart overflow with happiness.  Above the fireplace in the main lounge room was one of my most precious canvasses, the first one I had painted when I got here. The one I  had reluctantly let go to the elderly man.  I remembered it so clearly because I had this canvas tucked to the side hoping no-one would want it, but this man had commented on the perfect colours and insisted on paying a large amount of money for it.  I got her to show me her phone again, I wanted to enlarge the photo just to make sure.  “Wow Madeline, that lounge room is so lovely and homely, your brother is very clever, tell me about the canvass above the fire place” I said wanting to hear the story from when it left my side to getting put up on the wall sitting their proudly.  
We had been sitting in the tasting room, a dimly lit room with a large high timber ceiling, large wine barrels scattered all around and a few large leather lounges.  She sat down next to me looking a little sad.  “My Grand-dad found the canvas at the markets, and fell in love with it, he loved the colours, and said the beautiful girl he bought it from reminded him of me, he basically made Noah design the room around it.  The sad thing is he never saw it hung, he died a few weeks after, before the room was finished.”  I instantly pulled her close to me, strange of me because I’m not normally this affectionate.  She cried a little on my shoulder.  I rubbed her back and spoke up.  “Do you want to hear a funny story?”  She wiped her eyes and looked at me to answer.  “Is it about something in your life, because you don’t talk about your life much?”  “Yeah it is...it is really a weird story...a little bit freaky actually” “What is it, tell me” she said impatiently.  “I painted that canvas” I said smiling at her a little.  “What? The one in my lounge room? When? Are you sure? Here look at it again, then tell me how this happened! O.M.G wait until Noah finds out” she said finding the photo on her phone again.  
She zooms in on the painting and holds the phone to me again.  “I know it is mine, I remember your dear old Grand-dad buying it, I didn’t want to part with it, but he insisted, he was a really lovely man Maddie, I’m sorry you lost him.”  “Both Noah and I have stood in front of that painting so many times and wondered what the artist was feeling when they painted it.”  She grabbed hold of me “tell me about painting it, what were you feeling?” “Well it was one of the first ones I painted when I got here.  I had turned up to surprise a boy I thought maybe I could fall for, even though I had never met him...but it turned out he was a she” I giggled a little.  Madeline gasps and before get the chance to ask exactly what I know she was going to I continue “I’ll tell you that story another day ok.  So... then I had to navigate my way through LA traffic on the wrong side of the road, on the wrong side in the car, finally making it to the ocean.  Before the sunset I  took out my paints, sat on a beach and painted.  I felt my Nan sitting with me, watching over me.  I reckon if you feel your Grand-dad around when you look at it, he is probably hanging with my Nan watching over us.”  She was crying.  I was crying a little now too, just thinking about my Nan, and now thinking about Maddie’s grand-dad.  “You did that all by yourself? You are so brave Cassie.”  She pulled me close to her and we cried together, they were not sad tears, they were happy overwhelming tears.  While she had hold of me she whispered to me “this makes you my kindred sister now, I have a part of you with me, I will think about my Grand-dad, and your Nan everyday I look at that canvas” cuddling me again.
While we sniffed and wiped our tears away, laughing a little of our weepy outbreak we heard a false cough and the door close loudly.  It was dark in the tasting room so I could only see a dark shadow until Noah stepped closer into the dull light.  He was a broad built tall man, he removed his cap, he had short hair, sort of like if he had been in the marines, he rubbed his hair then he stood cautiously holding his cap in his hand looking rather concerned about the two weeping women in front of him.  “Madeline, are you ok?” he said in a serious voice.  I couldn't tell in the dim light what he really looked like but from what I could see he looked quite handsome.  “I’m ok Noah, this is Cassidy, you know the one I told you about, we were just having a cry, we’re women we are allowed to do this” she said as she got up.   I joined her standing up, nervously straightening up my t-shirt over the top of my jeans.  I put my hand out “How ya going Noah I’m Cassidy, the silly cry baby friend of your sisters” I said jokingly.  He stretched his hand out to meet mine “Hey, nice to finally meet you Cassidy.”

Another month past by and I had made it all the way into Oregon close to the Canadian border.  I was getting over-run with canvasses, almost having to sleep on top of them, I needed to stop and sell them again.  So like before I settled in a bigger city, this time it was Seattle, and again finding a place to babysit for a few weeks, then finding a market place on the weekend to sell my pieces.  It was never for the money that I sold my canvasses but for the shear pleasure of someone appreciating the beauty that I could portray on the canvas.  I dabbled a little in the spray can art I had learnt, selling a few of these also.  In Seattle I ended up learning how to do chalk art on the street pavements.  People would step around both the artist and their piece of art, enjoying how clever and different people see things in life and are able to put it a picture.  Once again I loved having a kitchen and even had a few dinner parties for some of the local artists that I had become friends with. 

I was now going to head back towards Los Angeles but this time I was going to leave the coast, and go inland.  The mountain ranges and tall tree forests were spectacular, and now my inspiration.  By the time I had made my way back in to the State of California, I knew it wouldn't be long before I would have to have another sale day.  My days had been filled with just pulling over where ever I felt like, painting what ever I felt like, eating when I wanted to and sleeping a good eight hours every night.  I was becoming more confident talking with strangers now and again.  But missed having a in depth conversation with a friend.  My FB friends would chat with me digitally but hearing another persons voice, even touching another person I missed.

Days went by quickly, but at night I had time to think about things that I missed from home.  I always missed my Nan, nearly everything I did I felt her looking over my shoulder, guiding me.  I missed Dean for his funny conversations.  He would always ask me how I was feeling, always trying to make me take time out for myself.  I never did know his age but I always assumed he was about forty.  I knew he was a dedicated nurse, I don’t think he was ever married but had a long term lady friend.  I suppose he was like a father to me, just a young one.  I know he cared for me like one, but just without the family tie.  He probably didn’t boss me around like a real dad would of, and he never told me what to do but was good at gentle persuasion, with most times finding out that my mind was already made up.  Yep probably the same as a real dad relationship with a pre-adult daughter.

I had left him in the house free of rent while I was gone, but had told him the house is up for sale.  By the time I finally got on line to check my bank account a rather large sum of money had been deposited into it.  When I asked Dean, he had put it in their for the sale of the house to him, and the paperwork was waiting for me at home.  He trusted me completely, like I trusted him, I suppose a bit like a Dad would of looked after his daughter.  I had been gone nearly three months by now, so I worked out the time difference and gave him a call.  He was so happy to hear about my adventures so far, and I was happy to hear he had invited his lady friend to move in.  We joked and talked and I realised that talking to someone close to me was something else I had missed horribly.

I ended up stopping at Napa Valley for the next few weeks.  The straight rows of vines stretching out over the flat plains with a neat tree lines dividing the properties, looking like a patchwork quilt.  This was once again being very inspirational.  Also again one of the locals let me know one of the vineyards that was looking for a cook for a few weeks, something I knew I would love to do.  I put the address into my phone letting it guide me thru the well manicured hills and lush flat land.  I pulled up, walking into the front entry, found the correct person to talk to and was advised to park out the park near the kitchen.  So I parked my camper out the back of the building and made myself familiar with the kitchen.   

The young lady about my age walked me thru the rules and regulations.  I was to follow a standard menu but every so often I could splurge and make a cake if I wanted to.  She told me everyone on the staff would thoroughly enjoy this, giggling a little.  She was basically my boss and her name was Madeline.  She seemed really nice.  She had been managing this vineyard for a few years now.  Madeline ended up being a really beautiful girl inside and out, and thought I was funny, especially my accent.  Our friendship grew close rather quickly.  She lived on the premises for four days, then went home to San Francisco the other three days.  She would sit in the kitchen with me after closing time where I would cook us dinner.  She would pull a bottle of wine out from the counter and we would talk for hours.  She was so easy to talk to, maybe a little lonely living up here, with her letting me know that I am her saviour most nights.  Her brother was renovating their house back home, so she like to stay out of his way, and he also liked this plan.  She would often show me photo’s of the room he had finished, he looked like he was really clever with a great eye for style.

While I sat with her one evening while she waited for her brother to pick her up, sitting showing me all the renovations was when in one of these photos that I spotted something that made my heart overflow with happiness.  Above the fireplace in the main lounge room was one of my most precious canvasses, the first one I had painted when I got here. The one I  had reluctantly let go to the elderly man.  I remembered it so clearly because I had this canvas tucked to the side hoping no-one would want it, but this man had commented on the perfect colours and insisted on paying a large amount of money for it.  I got her to show me her phone again, I wanted to enlarge the photo just to make sure.  “Wow Madeline, that lounge room is so lovely and homely, your brother is very clever, tell me about the canvass above the fire place” I said wanting to hear the story from when it left my side to getting put up on the wall sitting their proudly.  
We had been sitting in the tasting room, a dimly lit room with a large high timber ceiling, large wine barrels scattered all around and a few large leather lounges.  She sat down next to me looking a little sad.  

“My Grand-dad found the canvas at the markets, and fell in love with it, he loved the colours, and said the beautiful girl he bought it from reminded him of me, he basically made Noah design the room around it.  The sad thing is he never saw it hung, he died a few weeks after, before the room was finished.”  I instantly pulled her close to me, strange of me because I’m not normally this affectionate.  She cried a little on my shoulder.  I rubbed her back and spoke up.  “Do you want to hear a funny story?”  She wiped her eyes and looked at me to answer.  “Is it about something in your life, because you don’t talk about your life much?”  “Yeah it is...it is really a weird story...a little bit freaky actually” “What is it, tell me” she said impatiently.  “I painted that canvas” I said smiling at her a little.  “What? The one in my lounge room? When? Are you sure? Here look at it again, then tell me how this happened! O.M.G wait until Noah finds out” she said finding the photo on her phone again. 

She zooms in on the painting and holds the phone to me again.  “I know it is mine, I remember your dear old Grand-dad buying it, I didn’t want to part with it, but he insisted, he was a really lovely man Maddie, I’m sorry you lost him.”  “Both Noah and I have stood in front of that painting so many times and wondered what the artist was feeling when they painted it.”  She grabbed hold of me “tell me about painting it, what were you feeling?” “Well it was one of the first ones I painted when I got here.  I had turned up to surprise a boy I thought maybe I could fall for, even though I had never met him...but it turned out he was a she” I giggled a little.  Madeline then puts her hands over her mouth embarrassed about laughing at my misfortune.  “I’ll tell you that story another day ok" I say pulling her hands away laughing with her.   I continue on with my story... "So...then I had to navigate my way through LA traffic on the wrong side of the road, on the wrong side in the car, finally making it to the ocean.  Before the sunset I  took out my paints, sat on a beach and painted to de-stress a little probably.  You know...I could feel my Nan sitting with me, watching over me.  It was such a lovely feeling.  I reckon if you feel your Grand-dad around when you look at it, he is probably hanging with my Nan watching over us.”  She was crying by now.  I was crying a little now too, just thinking about my Nan, and now thinking about Maddie’s grand-dad.  “You did that all by yourself? You are so brave Cassie.”  She pulls me close to her and we cry some more together, they were not sad tears, they were happy overwhelming tears.  While she had hold of me she whispered to me “this makes you my kindred sister now, I have a part of you with me, I will think about you, my Grand-dad, and your Nan everyday I look at that canvas” cuddling me again.

While we sniffed and wiped our tears away, laughing a little of our weepy outbreak we heard a false cough and the door close loudly.  It was dark in the tasting room so I could only see a dark shadow until Noah stepped closer into the dull light.  He was a broad built tall man, he removed his cap, he had short hair, sort of like if he had been in the marines, he rubbed his hair then he stood cautiously holding his cap in his hand looking rather concerned about the two weeping women in front of him.  “Madeline, are you ok?” he said in a deep serious voice.  I couldn't tell in the dim light what he really looked like but from what I could see he looked quite handsome.  You know in a tall, dark and handsome sort of way.   “I’m ok Noah, this is Cassidy, you know the one I told you about, we were just having a cry, we’re women we are allowed to do this” she said as she got up.   I joined her standing up, nervously straightening up my t-shirt over the top of my jeans.  I put my hand out “How ya going Noah I’m Cassidy, the silly cry baby friend of your sisters” I said jokingly.  He stretched his hand out to meet mine “Hey, nice to finally meet you Cassidy.”