To all the people who have called me on the telephone today: I’m sorry I didn’t answer. The luxury of the telephone is that you don’t have to pick it up when it rings.
I just don’t want to talk to anyone today. I don’t want to talk, period.
I know if I talk to someone, I’ll want to talk about him, and I don’t want to talk about him.
It’s enough that I keep thinking about him.
Wrapping presents doesn’t help, because his is sitting there. Washing clothes doesn’t help because he loves the scent of fresh laundry. Cooking dinner is no good because I learned to use organic ingredients from him.
So, tight-jawed stoicism has now given way to a kind of numb depression. I wonder what tomorrow will bring.
