I wake up with a heavy head.
Not because of a wild night out (I wish)
No, rather a lurking notion of yesterday’s evening.
Sleepless tears over a cup of tea, with you by my bedside, sharing my pain but unable to comfort me.
Because this is my own doing, my own choice.
And sometimes we have to go through temporary pain for long term relief.
I have an army of friends and family that support me but I need to gather my own forces for my own battle.
So I allow myself a slow morning in bed, before I put on my most comfortable knitted sweater and step outside.
It’s a beautiful fall day with soft sunlight and high, fresh air.
I walk aimlessly down the street and when I begin to get hungry I let my feet steer me towards Funky Fresh Organic Food-cafe.
I have a tasty coriander-lentil burger with pesto, kale and mango chutney and treat myself a good beer.
And I write.
Like I have since I first started keeping journals, like I did though out my teens, on all my travels, through all my ups and downs.
And suddenly, as I pin down these last letters, my head feels as light and fresh, as this day.