Keith says I have to tell you guys about me now. I really don’t want to, but he’s stolen my washing and won’t give it back until I do.

Right where to start. I swear I’ve told you all I’m called Freya. But if I haven’t that is my name. I’m twenty-eight years old in about two weeks from now and I like to collect tiny cuddly toys I can fit into the palm of my hand.

Great now I sound like a kid introducing themselves to their class for the first time. I hate this. I’m honestly not a socially anxious person but I don’t like being forced to do things especially when I can’t see the point in them. This is meant to be about Keith not me.

Eurgh he’s still not satisfied and is now using my blue bra as a kite.

Look I live by myself in a cosy little hilltop cottage on the outskirts of a small market town. We’re not too far from the sea but far enough that I would probably take a cart to get there than ride a Peggy no matter how comfy the saddle was. The house has been in my family a long time. My great grandparents moved in here back when my Great-Granddad came to town to take over from the retiring butcher. The whole place is imprinted with my family’s history. My parents were sad to move out about seven years back but after Dad started getting problems with his knees, he couldn’t deal with climbing up the hill every day after work. They live in the next county over now, in a nice little bungalow on a very flat patch of ground. I visit them about twice a month. It’s been a bit lonely here since they left but also nice. I mean I could never get away with wandering the house naked when they were still here.

I work at the local plant nursery just outside the other side of town. We’re one of the smaller branches of Chatto Gardens. I like the smallness because it gives us a lot more freedom in how the place is run. Well I don’t technically run it. I’m an assistant manager at best. Charlie is the real boss he’s been working there since he was a kid and is now old enough to have grand-kids of his own. Most of the guys who work here who aren’t just students trying to earn a bit of extra cash are Healers. Quite a few of the older ones still cling to the Plant healer definition as they grew up thinking they could only use their gift on plants. I’m not one of them, though honestly it is none of your business what my gift is. It’s not a huge part of my life after all.

I’m good at what I do even if I can’t make sick plants well again with a wave of my hand. I’m the best at knowing how to prevent damage. I have every plant under our care memorised with all its wants and needs. I’m not much of a designer of gardens though. I like plants more on a natural haphazard basis than as something to be carefully planted in borders.

The cottage attests to that with the trailing blossoms that twist about and the long unmown grass full of wildflowers. I have a little vegetable and herb plot that is a lot neater. I love chaos in my pretty plants, but I would rather not have knot weed suffocating my carrots. Do you know the real difference between a weed and a plant? It’s that weeds are just plants growing in a place you don’t want them to be. I rarely have weeds in my garden.

Now out of work I do have some form of a social life. I love sports especially martial arts. I’ve been learning Tai Chi for the last ten years and have picked up Judo and Ju Jitsu in the last three years. I sometimes go out drinking with the guys after sessions but we’re nearly all dead on our feet by then. Or at least they all are.

And oh yeah, I forgot to say that yes, I do talk with other things like Keith. They have to be animate to make noise though, so rivers, fires that sort of stuff have personalities and wants. But you aren’t going to get anything out of a rock however much you try. None of them are my friends though. Some of them disappear out of existence so quickly that to even think of becoming friends with them is impossible. I mean a flame is gone as soon as it runs out of fuel for a start. Dead within minutes.

I asked Keith about that. He says that death doesn’t really exist for him as it does for us. That he is but a wavelength of motion that fulfils its task then gets transmuted into new motion.

I got this all from him in between the bits where he pretended to be a ghost and made ooh noises at me till I couldn’t take it anymore. You’re welcome for all my suffering for knowledge there guys.

I’ll see you guys next time once I get my washing back.