Monday, October 19, 2009

The bubble

I would describe her absence as a hole or like a bubble of air stuck in a water balloon. It presses up against the outside like a face on glass. Stuck in until the balloon is burst, squeezed, popped open, the content oozing out. It sounds gruesome but it is not. It sounds excruciating but it is not. It sounds hopeless but it is not. It is only just a change or a metamorphosis. It is a new life that cannot be compared to any event or feeling that has existed for me before the burst.

Everything is new, this home inside myself. It is as though it was bought in the winter and I have just learned in the richest spring of my life that 1,000 red tulips have poked through the grass and opened their faces to me.

These are my luckiest days really, the luckiest indeed.

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