A few drinks and smokes the night before had left me feeling like death in runners.
Death in runners, at the start of a wonderful bright morning, a long path ahead of me and many thoughts to keep me company along the way.
A small inconvenience, my usual phone with my podcasts is out of operation, leaving me to make do with this claustrophobic 4S.
Nothing works, it’s all with that login to I-tunes drivel and the streaming won’t start. I settle for my aunt Carol’s playlist, a remnant from the borrowed phone and accompanying remnants of my Aunt’s shining demeanour.
I switch on the first song, a Caribbean gospel rendition of hallelujah.
And amble off.
Step upon step, thought after thought ticks over in my mind. A wave of different emotions, personal expressions and sighs of discontent mixed with content. A long and persistent struggle, known intimately. So many times I have been here before.
Still the steps continue. The thuds continue. The breathing continues and I continue to withdraw into myself. All the while a comfort caresses my heart. A simple throw back to simpler times, a helpful steadying to the tune of Rollin Down The River.
An insight into what my aunt listened to while she was one burrowing through thoughts just as I.
Perhaps she was walking the dog. Maybe she was riding her bike. Maybe she was happy or sad. And maybe she was feeling happy or sad the way I was. Quite strongly.
Life hurts. Love hurts. Friendship hurts and sometimes it splinters.
I always think that is what life is about. Hurting. That’s how you really know how much things matter. When they can hurt you. When things can hurt you without actually happening, but with just the thought.
All the thoughts. And all I do is think and think and think.
But today I got to think in my Aunt’s shoes. Got to put her smile upon my lips and listen to that which once gave her peace, and today, me the same, through our unexpected connection.
My broken phone and my borrowed replacement. An uplifting feeling born of inconvenient turns.
A manner in which I noticed how the rays undermined the dark clouds gathering. How that light mesmerises the darkness.
The darkness can sometimes feel quite huge. Perhaps that’s the hurt. Seems to me the joy is in the cracks of light. The little wins. The rays. The smiles and laughs. The love. That hurts. That lives in the hurt.
And all of these other things are meaningless. I wish I could express how meaningless everything seems compared to a heavy heart, a long steady grind, Baby Love, and the reminder that all I care about is my family together.
At the end of it I’m tired and worn down and happy.
Let me fall into the arms of my loved ones and let them know they’re all I really care about.
Hurting’s OK. It means I’m alive.