Ordinary things

Time has come for me to re-enter the world---find work, look for a smaller flat, get my driver's license, et cetera. Much as I would like a sabbatical for mourning, that is neither feasible nor advisable. This past year has been one long goodbye, a preparing for death and grieving. At some point, one must cone up for air--remember the land of the living.

It's so strange at times: a montage in slow motion, where the squeak of a smoke alarm replaces the clock's ticking. I sometimes feel that I am watching everything unfold, somewhere on the periphery. Other times, the pain hits, and I sit in the dark, sobbing.

And yet...!