It’s a bad old sad old day.
It’s one of those days where everything starts normal. Sunlight blinking through curtains, the clatter of teaspoon on mug, strong strong tea with its metallic taste, shuffle bump on the tube, reading that free paper but not really reading it, blinking in sunshine on the way to work. Normal.
And then the news comes. Said with salty splashed eyes, as we listened. And everyone went silent. People held on to each other, went to drink cups of coffee big enough to swim laps in, a tot of whisky. Nobody really knows what to do or say. The radio is blaring, it’s the only noise here. Today is sad sad sad.
Hearts go out to those left, bereft.
Memories pop in unbidden. Our house, quiet and closed, after another such senseless death. Sitting watching the early evening gloom. I went up to the fields for days afterwards, burying my face in the neck of any horse which would stand still long enough.
Safari njema to a special and wise man. You’ll be missed.
