I passed another of my old birthday a few days ago.
November 2 usually finds me and leaves me hazy, half here and half back there. I get flashes of ornate decoration, tapestries and brocade all gold, black, and white, still three of my favorite colors. The old me was born on All Soul’s Day, when my Catholic people remembered all the good Christians who had gone before us. Someone, my father I think, told me it was very special to be born on such a holy day. My father was always good at making me feel important. My father in this life is like the previous, the easy-going sort who didn’t mind getting on the floor to play.
I used to think it was just post-Halloween depression, but the haze is worse this year than ever. The massive cold I have isn’t helping, but for days I haven’t been able to concentrate on anything, except the Games of Thrones clips I’ve been binge-watching. I’m two seasons behind in the show, but absolutely wallowing in scenes from the early episodes. Maybe it’s no coincidence I find myself concentrating on Daenerys and Sansa. They make me remember the nausea of trying to feel at home at a new court, with a new people. The Khaleesi’s timidity at the beginning giving way to such strength…I can only aspire to that, now and in the past. But I do remember feeling very strong, whether I was in truth or not.
Maybe it’s the cold, and that I’m unused to being ill, but I feel like a banner whipping furiously in an unrelenting wind. All is calm here, all I need to do is do my work, and on Wednesday I reward myself by taking off to visit my nephews. I’ve been taking more Ritalin that I should, ditto with caffeine, setting timers on my phone for breaks, all in the hopes of buckling down. But I feel rootless. I don’t feel like one person but many, a long line of silly girls with red hair and varying styles of dress.
The picture for this entry is of a piece of my old hair, preserved for centuries. It is the same shade that grows on my head now. So much remains the same in this world…but so much of what made me me is gone. The people I see flashes of all the time are old bones now, if that. The people I love today will leave me, it’s inescapable. And though I’ll find them again, I find little comfort in that now. Back to work…
My Longing Shall Gather 