Home but not quite. It’s beginning to feel familiar but my dreams are still of the US. I wake in the middle of the night all at sea. Where am I? I miss the space, the letting the day be what it is, the yielding to other’s whims. So restful. Home hits me with its demands. Or the demands I connect with it. All will be well. There is time to breathe now. Now I must just wait. And the other thing? Well it has to come. And with it all her antagonism. She is a fighter. She attacks, just like she used to do. No trust. No softness, no yielding. No, no, no, she said, her hand cutting the air like a cleaver. I think about her and her. Trying to understand, to feel safe with the both of them. They listened. I appreciated that. Nice things come. Requests to write, to use my images. I am touched by that. There are the failures too. You haven’t been successful this time. There were so many applicants, blah, blah. But that is OK. I must and will accept that what is to be mine will be. Now and always. Let it go. Let it go, he says. But I love her, too. I know this. I want her in my sight. It is better then, as it was with her. But then there is the other one. A lovely girl. She fills my heart. I miss them. I miss our conversations, I miss being in their world. What will they buy for dinner, will he cycle to work? Did she finish that novel? Did they buy corn?
And then there is he. I am held by such love.