Sunday, 17 January 2016

Missing You Always.


Monday January 11th, 2016. 
12:30am. It was almost time. You were quietly rustling in your hay nest and I couldn't sleep, not wanting you to be cold or alone. I scooped you up and brought you to bed, tucking you in beside me. You listened to me talk for a few hours, letting me gently hold your little paw. I think you were doing a better job at reassuring me, when it should have been the other way around. A final few shallow breaths, one last twitch of your ears and you slipped peacefully away. We grew up together, you and I. You knew all of my secrets, patiently listening to all of the silly worries my early-twenties seemed to conjure up, always there with a reassuring nose nudge or an agreeable stomp. Oh how good you were at stomping. It's not the same here anymore and it won't ever be again, not without you. But I'm clutching on to the thought that being with you in your final moments, and I'm so thankful that they were peaceful, just the two of us, is all I could have hoped for as the end became our present, and now my past.

Oh and by the way, I just found that little clump of hay (that must have taken ages to wedge in there) under the seat of my rowing machine. And that shows just how often I've been using that lately, doesn't it? Are you really exercise guilt tripping me from the bunny afterlife?

Missing you always, little kale monster.
xo


- One thought from each day, told in fewer than one hundred words (probably). Sometimes odd, sometimes silly, sometimes entirely nonsensical. Who knows. I don't. It's a new thing I'm trying. Except for this week. This week was difficult. The words wouldn't come. And I couldn't write anything else.

Sunday, 10 January 2016

The day the sky fell in.


Monday January 4th, 2016. 
This was the day the sky fell in and clouded my dreams with stardust and miniature droplets of water. It's all very well having your head in the clouds, somewhat beautiful in theory in fact, but when the wings of birds are fluttering in your eyes it can be difficult to see which way is safe to turn.

Tuesday January 5th, 2016. 
You are the light I did not know I needed until suddenly you were standing next to me, with your warm glow allowing me to find my place on my map.

Wednesday January 6th, 2016. 
The incredibly kind people who work in my local corner shop think I'm very healthy. 'Oh, back again for more kale?' I haven't mentioned it's for the rabbit, the tiny kale monster. I've left it too late to mention now, it would just be too awkward. So I continue to pretend I really like kale. I don't like kale at all.

Thursday January 7th, 2016. 
Last night I dreamt I was an expert on a television quiz show. I was an expert on Dadaism. I referred to myself as Queen of the Dada's. 

Friday January 8th, 2016. 
You were screaming for someone to help. You were in a glass box. Everyone could see, but nobody really listened.

Saturday January 9th, 2016.
There's a particular feeling that I cannot articulate into words. It's as though I'm slowly freezing from the inside outwards. Thoughts are slowing down and feeling warmth in my fingertips is a long forgotten notion. But when I close my eyes and inhale deeply, I am sure I can detect the subtle sent of a far away barbecue and the delicate touch of a slight breeze upon my eyelashes.

Sunday January 10th, 2016. 
Thoughts over a slice of cheese toast at midnight:
We should really fix that tiny hole in the ceiling. Maybe a new profile picture would be a good idea. I wonder how one goes about getting to read manuscripts as a job? Let's be honest, that wouldn't feel like a job at all. Music is on shuffle and 'Someone Like You' just started playing, there will be tears in approximately 30 seconds. Everytime. Cheese toast probably wasn't the best idea before sleep. Hopefully no more dadaism dreams will follow... 

- One thought from each day, told in fewer than one hundred words (probably). Sometimes odd, sometimes silly, sometimes entirely nonsensical. Who knows. I don't. It's a new thing I'm trying. 



Jennie May
xo

Sunday, 3 January 2016

Slightly Ajar.

Friday January 1st, 2016.
If just yesterday I stood beside a dusty window in a room where the rain fell on the inside and thick grey clouds obscured even the notion of there being anyone inside, today I am standing at that same window, but this time it is slightly ajar and on a clear day.

Saturday January 2nd, 2016.
Sometimes when the rain hits my window at just the right angle it sounds a little like icy fingernails. It's as though they're trying to tap tap tap their way inside. And if they got in, what then? Would they evaporate? Or would they try to tap tap tap their way inside my body? In a never ending cycle of trying to find the best place to finally rest.  

Sunday January 3rd, 2016.
There was a giant Ferrero Rocher chocolate sitting in the kitchen. It was a gift that I hadn't yet eaten. Sometimes I held it in my hands, pretending it was a normal sized Ferrero Rocher and I was just exceedingly small. But today was the day that I ate most of it. At 8am.

- One thought from each day, told in fewer than one hundred words (probably). Sometimes odd, sometimes silly, sometimes entirely nonsensical. Who knows. I don't. It's a new thing I'm trying. 


Jennie May
xo