Heavier than when I left

My thoughts are never far

Subway Station at Bowling Green NYC

Me: I’m off to the gym.
Her: (nods)

Wish I could give you good news about Alison and the rest of us but I can’t. New and unexpected miniature disasters visit us regularly, each one with it’s own particular set of grief and crazy.

It’s exhausting.

Haven’t been able to go fence, even though it’s around the corner, cause classes are only at night.

Did manage to get to my other gym this week, after not going for over a month.

While it’s not around the corner, it’s also not that far from me. Grab my gym bag, which never has much in it – mouthguard, clean clothes, water, and maybe my keys – and 18 minutes or so and I’m there.

It’s strange being back there. The older guys know better than to ask how I’m doing but newer people want to know details of my horror story, which I understand from a morbid curiosity point of view, but I go to forget my problems, not relate them.

Still, I try to focus on being there but it’s hard. My thoughts are never far from her. 90 minutes later, I’m done and start heading back home.

Even though the distance is the same, and my bag should be lighter since I drank the water and am wearing the clothes, instead home seems forever away.

And I struggle with a bag that seems even heavier than when I left.

Me: (cheerily) Hey beautiful, I’m back.
Her: (nods)


Location: snowy NYC
Mood: struggling
Music: minor catastrophes bring me to my knees

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