Tuesday, January 29, 2002

The first night

The clock on the wall of my bedroom ticks.

There is very little water pressure in the shower.

In the twilight, shadows fall on the vase on the top shelf along the dining room wall, making it look very much like a face with an evil rictus for a mouth and two enormous eyes.

These are three things I forget but almost instantly recall every time I come here, one hundred miles and 16 years away from the place I now call home, to a place I am from but no longer of.

This is the first night I have spent alone in this house in 33 years.

Eight miles away, resting as comfortably as is possible under the circumstances, she is spending the night alone in a hospital for the first time in 33 years.

The clock on the wall of my bedroom ticks.