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Hope

December 28, 2016

This year, unusually, I have no inclination to reflect on its passing.

Then I look at 2015’s and realise I said little of note. Perhaps I was retiring all along.

2016 was difficult, as was 2015, and 2014. Loss of control, independence, percived inalienable rights. Worst, me feels nothing to show for it. Dignity, grace, wisdom, nada. Loneliness, wistfulness, foolishness, yeah. Oh, and I lost a friend I thought was forever.

Maybe next time.

Maybe 2017 will be better, maybe what we wish will happen.

I might have a meal this week. I hope it’s not dinner, and hope things go my way. But it will be okay even if they don’t.

I sit at an inaccessible cafe my brother brought me to, although he was kind enough to carry my bag with three heavy books. Three ladies seat near us shushing their elderly father each time he speaks too loudly, although they’re the only ones with problems with his volume- the cafe is noisy with coffee-making and voices.

I am full with good conversations over the weekend, la plénitude, sufficient.