Let your ears sink below the water line and the neighbours noise is megaphoned into your brain. I’m glad I wasn’t down here for the door slam.
Youngest is out on the town for the first time in maybe more than a year.
The cats bowls are full again but I am hungry all the time. The cupboard is bare, the fridge full of nothing that will do it.
On the way to work I drove down the skinny lane and left three bags of old clothes behind the goodwill shop as instructed. The house is a bit cleaner for the return of the big kids from asia tomorrow.
There’s a certain point on the drive home, where you can see the bridge, and you see what lies ahead. Tonight the red line of tail lights was fluid but unmoving, if that makes sense. Ani Choying Drolma was singing the Mantra of Compassion and the United Kingdom was in the sky in front of me – it’s dark but not a cloudless night. There’s plenty of time to think on the way home. Closer to the actual entrance of the bridge and there’s a row of red x’s hanging high, directing traffic direction. What else could those red x’s signify in life? What should I STOP? Om mani padme hum, om mani padme hum…
The old dog across the road died yesterday. And tomorrow, with great difficulty, mother will go to a friend’s funeral. Peer group dwindling.