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Day 56

Updated: Apr 20

I am taking a break or “the traveling cure,” as it were. People keep saying my grief is a “journey” but it isn’t. It is being smashed by a plane falling out of the sky onto my head. It is pulverization.

I am going to take a literal journey. I hope a break from renovating my former home will be helpful. It may also pause me seeing all the things Constance and I used to do together everywhere I look—a slideshow of memories cast in sepia because there are no future ones.

As a child, when traveling, I played a game we called “Horses.” Whoever saw a horse first pointed at it and yelled, “Zip!” to claim it. Whoever saw a cemetery first yelled, “I bury all your horses in that grave!” to reduce another passenger’s total claimed horses to zero. The goal was to have the most horses at the end of the trip. Constance never played this colonization-style game. Instead, she had an iPad. If I’d had the option of playing with an iPad on trips, I would have done that as well.


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