I arrived home this morning having taken Amanda to the airport.
As I put the kettle on the clock in the village struck seven.
This was noticable because everything in the flat was still and quiet. There is an emptiness, the like of which I have not experienced before.
I can hear the clock in the kitchen ticking away, oblivious to the change that has taken place.
Apart from that, all is still and quiet… and lonely.
As difficult as it was for me to have someone else around for the past two weeks, trying to cope with “two minds” at work in such a confined space, it may be harder now to readjust to the fact that I have to be on my own again.
A part of me is missing.
I look around at static objects; the table, the pictures on the wall… the empty kitchen which so often contained my animated girl busily, and happily, preparing a meal for “her boy”.
Eveything which brought this place to life for the past two weeks (was that all it was ?) has gone.
I had become used to living alone. I put my own life into this environment. To me it resonated with my existance.
Perhaps, in time, it will resonate again; but it will never be the same as it was. For now it seems like it is just holding its breath.
I should get a text message from her soon, from Amsterdam, to say that she has landed safely…. I can’t wait.
I will stay up late tonight to hear from her in Hong Kong… nearly home.
When I wake up in the morning I will call her to check that she is home safely.
And then the waiting will begin. The eight or nine weeks until she returns and breathes life into these tired walls… this empty space… my empty heart.