We’re back to work, as in REALLY back to work. As in 60-hour workweeks. I’m not complaining. It’s actually been a while, almost a month, and I don’t know why it’s taken me so long to write about it. It’s as if I don’t know what to say, you know?
I’m only writing now, really, to get past this and on to what I WANT to write about.
And yet I relish the words I’ve generated here, because they lend permanence to the experience; they stick around for when I need help to remember. Because remembering times like this is the only way I know of to do honor to such experiences, to appreciate the value of what we lost here, and of what we gained.
Right now I feel like someone recently rescued, awash in colors and sounds and sensations, overwhelmed, still unsure when I close my eyes each night what, exactly, I’ll find when I wake up. But soon the days will accumulate, and these feelings will pass, and something akin to normalcy will set back in. But normal? Whatever that is? We won’t ever quite be there again (if we ever were). And that’s okay.
Of all the things I’ve learned through this, an understanding of that, that right there, that very point, might be the most important one of all.
