03 April 2019

Something before nothing

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There was snow in the highlands this morning, or at least the neighbour tells us this as Yoko and I make our way up Victoria Road, back from the High Street and a failed attempt to buy a shirt. Yes, there was frost on the car, and ice patterned like spider web on everything when I had gone out this morning, barefoot, at five in the morning. Winter holds on until it doesn't — we wave goodbye and are home then, to do whatever needs to be done for the afternoon and until the children come crashing back.

After the letter last month, after the money had been spent and I had worked myself up and had my final complaints in with everyone, it was just silence. How many years had it been, I said, since I had a permanent visa — I have never had a permanent visa in the 16 I have been wandering away from home. What do you do when you get the thing you have wanted — it felt like marriage, where nothing and everything changes over night. You can't see the change.

I still can't sleep. I wake up after 90 minutes or three hours. I wander downstairs, I make breakfast, or I don't. I check my email and wonder if I should work, if I should just keep going or if I should try to sleep again. I look in the mirror. I go back to sleep. I wake up again and make coffee. Something will happen now.
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