in the dark

expat life

nightime in lindfield

Today I found out that someone I love is going through a terrible time, some real personal turmoil that I can’t really imagine, and that I only came to know second-hand through another sweet friend. And in this new year, post-holiday come down, where the sparkle is all gone and it’s back to reality, I really feel that the tenuous ties that bind some of my dearest relationships are at their thinnest, their most delicate, and I must work harder to keep them close to me. It is hard to be aware and present and enough for people you see once or twice a year, or even less,  and even then for just a few hours at a time. It is hard to be a flitting shadow to people, or a memory. And it isn’t all really connected to my friends illness, and I don’t want to be a person who uses another’s reality to talk about oneself, but this is a sobering reminder of the frailty of all things.  I don’t know that I have much more to say about it, no exposition to be found, except that I am sad and that I miss my people, scattered around the globe.

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