I like tea as well as coffee, and I drink a lot of tea. If I did not have such a nervous tummy, prone to respond to coffee with heartburn and cramps, I think I might also have become a regular coffee drinker deeply interested in the whole thing – procedures, beans, origins, traditions, roasting, preparations. But as it stands, I’ll continue going to coffeeshops, begin by marvelling at the splendid aromas in the air, but proceed by skipping over the coffees on the menu most of the time and order something else instead.
It’s queer, what could have been, it’s in the little things, it’s in the details.
In March 2014, I went on a 10-day trip to Italy with Terry. It was a delightful mixture of four days of freely roaming the cities of Verona & Venice and six days of doing trail running (or rather speed-hiking at most, but more on that later…) around the Western side of Lake Garda, starting off from Limone.
Occasionally, when I have a melancholy phase, I go back and continue googling your name. It feels almost compulsive: your name, combined with your home town, or with the name of your Tibia character; your name with or without “Tibia”, or your birth name that you never really used online; together with terms of the things I knew you to like – an open tibia server, a page to post code, anything; different combinations, always hoping I’ll stumble over something new I have missed before.
I must know more about you and who you were, because that is my duty as someone you left behind who knew you well.
Because I am the only one who can do it from this angle –
Or am I? I don’t even know, and I wish that were different;
And in a way, I hope that it will never be different. I hope that I can never fully accept that you are gone, because that way, you remain with me down here in my duty, and I will keep you here.
And all this is horribly self-centered and does not have much to do with anything that means anything for you, but you are gone, so what can I do, right?
But on any given day, my mood hangs in a fragile balance –
give me too long out in the world during the day, and I grow tired and weary of everything that happens around me, irritable and unable to react appropriately to all the stimuli, wanting desperately to hide in a pile of leaves and hole up like the hedgehog until spring wakes me –
but give me too long at home alone, and I grow anxious, disconcerted by the prospect of going back out into the world and having to function, I grow sleepy and nested up inside myself, longing for a summer day to go out and bask in sunlight without having second thoughts –
Whenever I make the switch, good things usually happen and I can blossom again.
But it is always a fragile balance, the harmony between the social and the private, the outer and the inner, between challenge and relaxation, stimulus and stagnancy, movement and rest, the play and the calm.
But what can I do? And there are always storms.