Last January was the worst time of my life. I felt as though I was adrift and I couldn’t anchor myself to anything at all. Even the most familiar things looked out of place, like a Salvador Dali painting.
I’ve already mentioned that we walked 500 miles in the first two weeks of January, well on one of those walks I took a picture of a view I saw every day on my way to work. It’s one of my most familiar sights but in that moment it could’ve been in another country entirely.
I look at it now and it comforts me and scares me in equal measure. I’m comforted because now it’s a view that’s back in context but it terrifies me because I can so clearly recall how out of place I felt when I took the photo.
I love that I live here, it’s such a busy city and there’s always something going on and I’m also glad that we didn’t follow our first instinct, to run away And find somewhere new to live. This city is where all my memories of my boy are.