Round up of the year blues

This year’s drawing to its close. Strange to think that I’ve been here longer than a year. Round and round we go. And not much has changed. I’m a year older.

I sit, typing this in the bedroom, sneezing every few words, with a growing mound of tissues beside me. (This year has been a year of coughs, colds and respiratory problems – allergies, asthma and dust mites accumulating unseen in futons and between tatami strands, incrementally). The futon’s pulled up against the sliding door, I’m sitting in it with the blankets heaped around me and the heater on. I’m wearing my cozies, the black uniglo room wear set (no doubt also invaded by mitocondria) and the huge black and white socks. The temperature has begun to drop in the last few weeks, and soon it’ll be too cold to stand the rooms without heating and extra layers.

So I was doing this sort of thing a year ago, exactly. Only then it was unknown, new. S is sitting in the other room, painting. On the surface us, our life together, seems oddly static and unchanging. Yes part of this I like, as love that nourishes and is good should be this sort of unceasing. Yet also, I don’t seem to trust such a thing. Subjectively, I know that life changes, changes – yet not all the time, exactly, in stages – instead maybe it lurches forward radically after a fallow period. A bit like the 2p push ‘em up machines. If you watch the 2p hanging on the edge, seemingly about to totter with every push of the stage, yet not somehow – occasionally being nudged back or a tiny bit more forward – and then, when you’ve almost given up, with a lurch it will fall, accompanied usually by others. Though never in the formation you might predict, after falling the selection makes sense – those ARE the only ones which could have fallen, that time – and of course, now, more gather and group to take their places on the edge of the precipice.

So that’s what I think about mine, and S’s life. We seem to hunker in, try and keep things in a routine – S, especially, it’s the way he functions – but I sense that every now and then there will be a huge push – gentle, but huge – and we’ll tumble into a new arrangement.

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