I’m home and it’s dark and loneliness is seeping in. My daughter’s going on holidays with her dad and my sweetheart’s on a plane and won’t be here for weeks. My neighbour died last night, cracking jokes, her sister told me, and minutes after she died her family watched fireworks from her hospital window, can you imagine, fireworks were being fired off from the top of the mountain she saw every day for years and walked on every day as a younger woman. She lived in this house for decades, treading the floor above my ceiling, and this unfamiliar emptiness mingles with the loneliness I’d feel anyhow at the end of weeks of travelling and talking and playing and loving and parenting. Tomorrow I’ll ring my friends and hope they remember me after all my travelling and absence. Tomorrow I’ll work. This weekend I’ll visit my sister.
Right now I think I’ll crawl under my doona and turn the TV on for company.