Time does not play by the rules

Yesterday was the 19th … technically 5 months now.
I try to look back and gauge whether that seems short or long … and find it depends on the context in which my perspective finds itself in this search.
It’s like the temporal equivalent of the optical illusions where your visual system keeps flipping between two possible scenes: two goblets or two women, a horse or a crone, a rabbit or a duck. At wikipedia and in _mathematics (scroll down to see the duck/hare one).
I think about the continuum of minutiae and it seems like a long time but then I think of the events, the granular nature of our lives and it seems like last week. 150 days or so … that’s 5 months, 5 phone bills but only 2 cable bills. 1 Christmas, 1 grandchild’s birthday but many boxes of tissue and many sleeps.
And then there’s the little, unexpected version of immediacy. I think of something or read something and think “She’ll love this.” Then I go to tell her: my body’s already twisting, foot lifting to walk into the next room where she … isn’t. Hasn’t been for … months now.
BUT she was just there in my mind. I could feel her. Can almost feel her now. She was such a large presence in my daily life for so long. She may be physically gone but the ‘her’ in me doesn’t just stop … can’t just stop.
Then there’s the firsts … the first time I do something that was done with her the last time I did it. Took that particular walk, sat in that booth there, saw that TV show. Each one a little milestone along the path away from life with her to whatever is next.
Days take forever but weeks fly by … time does not play by the rules.

About xamble

Most things I do involve computers. Nowadays that sounds stupid to hear because everyone uses computers. Except I was saying that before the IBM PC came on the scene. (hint: my first programs were entered on punch cards in an IBM-29) Now I mostly use them. Mostly to provide a community service in my small town. Because I could when it was asked and still can. And I'm a wannabe writer. Various books in various states of incompleteness. A few short stories. Might do more of that.
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