Climbing The Hill

My thinking hill in Sydney,
picture from liefdejesse.blogspot.com

Back when I lived in Sydney, whenever anxiety (or the heebie jeebies as I call it) kept me awake at night, I would calm myself by promising that the next day I would Climb The Hill and figure it all out.  Last night Cal spent his first night sleeping in his own room, and back in my own bed I began to worry about What Comes Next. 

The Hill was Moore Park Hill at the edge of Surry Hills, the inner-city suburb where I lived in numerous share-houses as a student. Looking north, the view from the top of the hill swept down over the expanse of dry grassy park and cleared the roofs of the suburb's iconic terrace houses. The city's silhouette lay behind like a cardboard cut-out of skyscrapers and the Centrepoint tower. Looking south across a golf course, towards Botany Bay and the sea, planes launched themselves at the atmosphere from Sydney Kingsford Smith airport. 


The top of the hill was the perfect place to figure out everyday problems, should I quit my job, change subjects, dump that guy, confront that friend etc. Up there the city and its demands were at a safe distance and with a turn of a head I could imagine myself on one of those flights rocketing smoothly away from it all. It was probably up there that I decided to apply for a student exchange to Amsterdam.


There aren't any hills to speak of in Holland, but perhaps I could climb a church tower or something because I need to get perspective on a few questions like should I go back to work, or should I dip into the savings pot and try and stay at home with Cal as long as possible? Will I go nutso being unemployed? Or is this time with him at home a gift that I should run at head-first?