Yesterday was Blue Monday - the most depressing day of the year... I wonder whether that was because of the snow? Because the January Sales aren't happening - who's shopping now? Or because it's long enough from New Year celebrations, and broken resolutions, to depress us all?
Who knows. I was alread depressed Saturday, and Sunday! No reason. Not half!
Isn't it strange how the phone never stops ringing... until one day you realise a line has been crossed. It's now 3 months! Hush. Who's still around after 3 months.
I wonder whether people assume you will pick up the phone, arrange the coffee morning, visit, speak up?
Do they really...? Because, you really don't expect to stop helping, or listening, after 3 short months. Surely? Try, a lifetime.
Some things never change - like January sales, like poetry, like the magazine through the letterbox. So who's still reading the printed page nowadays?
And who's a friend when everyone else assumes it's kinder not to phone, ask, chat, invite for coffee. Does anyone think grief goes away without talking? Without much coffee drunk?
I reckon people keep quiet so as to not upset themselves. I don't think they really want to hear. They don't even want to hear you laugh...
or do they?
So I will leave you with just one image. Really? Only one... There was this dream, and it happened over the weekend. I don't rightly know what it was about. Except, I was waiting... and asking... and I'm not sure if anyone knew the answer, nor where he was, but he was around somewhere, and they were just fetching him...
I wonder who they were? Police? Carers? Unclear.
But, he would be there any minute.
I wonder when I will have a dream where he turns up. Trouble is; I'm not sure if I'm up to another Blue Monday that lasted all weekend.
Celebrations Afoot at Orizont Literar Contemporan (Romania)
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