Ups and Downs

This was a busy weekend--not because I did anything eventful or memorable, but because I filled it up with tiny chores designed to keep my brain largely in the neutral. My mood was turning sullen and introspective, and I could tell from my restless sleep that the events of the past month were weighing heavy on me once again, so I turned my attention to filing papers, doing bookkeeping work for the store, working on Comic Shop News, moving a couple of pieces of electronic equipment that weren't being used any longer... the sort of thing you do when you want to focus your attention on what's in front of you rather than those things that are behind you now.

It worked for the most part: I got a lot of stuff done, and I only drifted into the melancholy when I was walking and had only my thoughts for company. I suspect that Kimberly is tired of hearing from me by now; I have called her so frequently during my walks that I'm sure she's rolling her eyes when the phone rings, but I rely on her to fill the void so that I don't think about the fact that I'm not talking to Dad. We have so many memories to share, so many things to discuss, that I can fill the walking time.

It's the midnight walk that's the loneliest, though, and that's odd. I never called Dad at midnight; in fact, I usually talked to Mom when I was out walking in the darkness. Now I talk to Mom and Dad both, but it's still a mournful talk of loss and sorrow. I drag up random lines from "In Memoriam A.H.H." and find both recognition and reconciliation in some of them... but I also drag up lines from Bryant and Dickinson and Wordsworth and Burns and still find poignant sorrow in them.

I remember too much poetry sometimes...