time off

this space is always an empty box when i begin.  white.  containing nothing but possibilities and stories yet to be told. yesterday, i could say, there were pear trees blooming, 4 and then another 4.  tiny white blossoms just beginning, and they were to my left as i walked the skywalk to the corridor which led to the hall which took me to my mother's hospital room and even more bad news and i ran away in tears.  this time the pear trees were to my right.

and such is life. 

it is folly to pretend otherwise.

it is now today and day 21 of my mother's journey but i lasted only a minute and a half yesterday afternoon.  i ran because i could - i fled.  i thought i'll run and i'll write about those pear trees, i'll talk about that last one that is just a young teenager, not quite grown all the way up, but bursting proud with new blossoms nonetheless, and i'll forget everything else;  the problem is it was the pear trees on my left i wanted to talk about, but they were obliterated by the blur of the ones on my right as i ran. 

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i have only those words and they are too hard to write.
maybe later.
maybe.

i will be back when this is done.

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