Bearings

It’s been five weeks already. What feels like inching forward on good days is countered with the sensation of falling into and struggling out of deep holes on the bad days. A process that’s not satisfied with taking me once around the block. No, the repeat play setting appears to be the only option, so the melody of mourning sticks and becomes a troublesome ear worm.

Aside from the necessary chores I try to keep myself occupied. Occasionally writing in short bursts, attempting an escape through reading the words of others, pottering in the garden. Moving stuff around. Yesterday I put two pairs of Mags’ ankle boots in the wardrobe. This morning I put them back on the shoe rack. Most evenings I lose myself in TV land. Documentaries early on while I’m still alert enough to look, listen and digest. I’ve enjoyed ‘My Life as a Rolling Stone’ and I’m currently watching ‘The Andy Warhol Diaries’ on Netflix. Anything that keeps me on the edge of my seat, or at least awake past 20.00 is a must. ‘We Own This City’ (NowTV) and Life After Life (BBC) number among the latter. ‘Breeders’ (NowTV) and ‘Trying’ (AppleTV+) have both made me laugh, proving that ‘happy’ is still in there. Just quietly ticking over for the time being.

Oh yes! I dug out an old photo frame with nine apertures. Down one side, three newly printed pics of Mags. On the other, three photos of the two of us together, taken across the years. In the centre, an early family shot of me, Mags and Heather, hunched together on a sofa and waiting for the camera’s timer to run down until the shutter snaps. It’s the past and a kind of comfort. I balanced things out with two snaps of the girls. The future. Ah…the future.

Comments

  1. Vicki Lane28 July 2022 at 19:47

    So good that happy is still in there. Take care of yourself, Martin.

    ReplyDelete

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