8.9.2022

I wanted to tell you that walking through the city this weekend, I felt like this could be home. When I rolled out of bed this morning after a sleepless night, that feeling of home mostly evaporated but some part of it lingers in the air, like a mist you would miss if you aren’t paying attention. 

Do you remember that story I used to repeat about a glass of water? 

Just in case you don’t remember it, let me remind you of it: it was a short anecdote about being a child and asking for your parent to bring you a glass of water in the middle of the night. This action isn’t about being thirsty, the author pointed out, but about ‘the hand attached to the glass of water’. That hand bringing you the water was everything. Who it was attached to meant more than the entire world. 

I used to roll over in bed in the middle of night and ask you to bring me some water. 

Last night, when I couldn’t sleep, I needed a glass of water. But obviously, you’re not here anymore. I’m not sure who to ask for it now. 

Anyways, do you remember this story? Am I making it up?

Somedays I’m not sure if the things I’m telling you about have actually happened, or if they were dreams, or maybe even premonitions.