Good Grief 263

It was a struggle to move. I sat on the floor looking through the window of the back door and watched the light on the wire thinking it all feels rather relentless and endless. An old friend rang and I was spurred on to move. I decided to scatter a few more ashes where we married. It helped to motivate me to get going and gave me some purpose to engage with. And company. When I got there I was almost convinced that I might just slide back across time to our wedding, to a time before the hellish years. I was sure I could hear everyone's voices in the garden ... just over the hedge (extra), the chink of glasses, the chaotic attempts to organise photos, the laughter and love.
As I walked I heard the cuckoo.

Edit: I've decided to add this to WOMW. It had occurred to me as I took it but I felt that as a 'silent' member of the Blip Order that I somehow shouldn't because I don't participate fully. The fact is, I am very appreciative of this place and those that look in and kindly offer stars and hearts even though I am such a poor responder. It offers a space to try to voice some of the absurdity that rumbles through rather than having it rattle around in my internal space. I think I have spoken before about diary keeping 'swimming in shit' and being cautious of it, and yet, bearing in mind the benefits of narratives and expressive writing.

Anyway, enough of that. When I took this I was listening to Holst's Planets with Mars nicely matching the emotional turmoil but as I watched the light we moved on to Venus and some peace. I love how window gazing allows the emotional weather to range and move through.