Her Tribe....

"Men need their own tribe." Eve read this profound statement. Yes, she pondered, agreeing. Football, BBQ's, beers, bourbons, misogyny, all affecting their ageing issues.

Eve realized that she had always got the blame for male inadequacies. It was sort of Christian, biblical in a way. It went with her name. These days, she harbored a secret yen for sexy Giovanni.

Mysteriously, he had turned back some years ago, and turned up in her suburb. It has at that stage taken him twenty-five years, but one day, there he was. All that time ago in the last century, Eve and Giovanni had barely met. She admired him from afar, maybe it was the wrong time, the wrong location.

What could Eve say? He even went to the same library. She had always wondered if she would encounter him again, so who was asking? She had her own tribe. This included her grey sisters, both feisty with their imposing double-dangs. They had often expressed a very low opinion of Eve's long gone love interests. Her sorority were born with a supreme man training gene, but Eve had totally missed that bit.

Eve had been coerced by a world of red herrings to waste thoughts on the past, which had not been so good. Her stinking thinking was silent, these days she just told herself, "Thanks for thoughts, brain. I shall march on with optimism, it's not so bad being old!" Eve had her own unique woman's touch in her grey matter.

Her personal tribe also involved her gal pals for support and encouragement. Eve had concluded that everyone in the global human tribe did need an audience, so she listened. She had a brain of ideas, and a bag of books, and liked writing, it was part of her identity.

Now she had reached her wrinkle age, with her bucket list. She made a vision board for her time ahead, winding down to her looming twilight years along the way. Eve had survived her baggage by smiling and keeping the peace. Now she had joined an online society of recovering doormats, learning to nurture her body and soul. She could do that now, after years of looking after everyone else, and their pets, never rocking the boat.

Eve no longer cared why such infantile males never got anyone else, better or worse. So she polished her imaginary angel wings. Who else was in her tribe? She had platonic friends, for coffee magic. They gathered at regular intervals. These boomers and sixty somethings were the sperm that had won the race.

Eve's mother had visited the maternity room a few times too many. It was the way they produced the boomer generation. No midwives ever wanted them back, to return boomers to the cabbage patch of fairies. The silvers these days were the ones that had tried for peaceful protests, for change. Well, Vietnam ended, apartheid ceased. Maybe their activism had changed part of their world. Currently, there were young tribal gatherings for protests for their causes.

Secretly, Eve's tribe also contained her ancestors. She was a hidden ghost master. She often had Jung's lucid dreaming, where her assorted grandparents might appear. She was never going to say anything, why call them back them Heaven? They just emanated. Eve still held visions of a better world.

She could reminisce about her Grandma's loving hands, and her tales of Summerlands. Grandma had taught Eve's junior tribe about fragrances of flowers in paradise, an emerald pasture by a clear stream, flowing to a sparkling shore, with New Jerusalem shining. On the flip side, Eve's other Nanna some days stood shoulder to shoulder with her.

Her name had been Dorothy. Naturally, Eve was living in Oz. Nanna had always believed she had the second sight, and could read the future in tea leaves. Eve's talents for handcrafts stemmed from the late Dorothy, the talented. On this misty morning, crochet was her name. Apt, right from crochet heaven above.

Sexy Giovanni drove past her lounge room window again. Eve did not know whether to wave or not. He was a real toff, the blip. What was there not to love? He knew it of course, she wondered about him. His flash wheels roared off, he had his tribe. Eve had hers.

Eve sighed, thinking. "Swell, I saw sexy Giovanni. Some bunny must love. him." She headed off to bed, and went to sleep. Nothing bad had happened. Probably never would. She was a born again Christian, after all. The new virgin. Eve woke up and decided she should have been a Carmelite nun, atheist friendly. Ephemera could exist.

Eve realized she would never stroll up to sexy Giovanni, and say, "Hi!" She was too much of a reticent. She could not be bothered unpacking her personal baggage with any male, not after all these years. It was a brand new day. It all sounded a bit too energetic, if not hyperactive.

Maybe she would never meet her soulmate. Stiff. Eve was very unromantic, in a practical kind of way. Stupid Cupid had a lot to answer for, in her opinion. That half naked toddler with his weapons of choice had shot her a beauty with his drunken little arrows.

Best thing she had ever done, divorced him. "Best not to lose any sleep over any male." Eve reminded herself. 'Still, saw Giovanni yesterday. He's the hots, I am not." So she curled up for a while with a good book, bit of escapism lit. Poor little billionaires in her novel, much misunderstanding about renovating their chandeliers.

She did her straggly bun, and told her reflection. "Right, old power, you have got this. Stick to faith and literacy. Works best for me." So she finished some romance book, and borrowed some more novels from the library, plus a book on phenomenology. It was one of her genres, definitely.

Eve lit her penny candles and prayed for more tolerance, and less participation in being catastrophic about nothing happened. At her time of life, she had a safe, stable home. No need to fuss. She barracked for Jesus and Mahatma. "Right back at ya!"

There he was again, passing her on her walk. She did not wave to sexy Giovanni. He winked and waved. Eve blushed, and went home. "No drama, saw sexy Giovanni," she told the evening star, gazing through the window. "Not again, stupid Cupid." A card appeared in her letterbox one afternoon. "Be mine, O Valentine, we can transcend time. Senior plus one, our funday has begun." So on spoke this epic. Eve did not know if it was from Giovanni or not.

Was he literate? Did he wish to unpack his own baggage in her direction? He was in her platonic tribe, she firmly told herself. Like a grey sister and brother, they caught glimpses of each other. He had waved, but winked!

It was sort of intriguing. "Yes, old power, fantasies are good for everyone. Quite harmless." Eve was thinking at her wrinkle cream. Giovanni might be a quirky guy, but was he kidding? Darby and Joan in senior denim jeans. Denim had been the symbol of their youth, way back when. That was the great survivor of 'their' generation.

Darby and Joan were still the oldest teenagers this evolution would ever see on earth again. Eve saw the silver lining in everything, or at least that was the aim. She was realistic in raising her expectations to the altar of the Lord. But, on the other hand, sexy Giovanni could make her smile in her dreams. They were both still in this tribe of chicks and chaps on their planet, the human race who were heading nowhere in particular. Eve believed they should all support each other, for the tribe and the future. Was that Giovanni she glimpsed? Yes, she relented to his manly temptation, smiled and waved. Magic in the air, maybe. Who knows how this tale would ever end........