Awakening to the sound of raindrops,
a mild wind after weeks of ice cold winter,
and I feel like crying a little (winter rain is the worst rain).
But I won't.
I go the the market hall,
borrow the newspaper from a couple of aging bikers
who nod politely at me.
Eat hot salmon on brown bread, and drink comforting dark coffee.
Walk through the city looking at people
and wonder, as usual, what their lives are like.
Feel odd, as usual. Not of this world.
A couple of hours with my mother,
welcoming and warm and hard to relate to.
(Well, mothers and daughters, they say. You do your best.)
I go home and wonder,
since there is love all around me,
how come I don't feel it?
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