I get through the days. The nights. A long and lonely winter. A few Christmas cards are still scattered on the floor, waiting to be trashed. I see my psychiatrist. She says things I don’t follow. She knows that. Her fat cat, Chichi knows that too.
I have holes inside me. Some big, some small, a few are getting bigger. A few looks like planets. Planets have beautiful names. Mars, Saturn, Pluto. When I was young, I had a dog named Pluto. One sunny afternoon, Pluto died. Run over by a car. I couldn’t sleep that night.
Sometimes it feels as if I’ve not slept for a long time. Every night, I lie on bed and stare at the ceiling, counting the cracks. And I try to dream.
I dream of packing my bags and going to the mountains. I have this strange notion that the mountain air will lull me to sleep.
*
It’s spring and the air is filled with the scent of Hasnahenna flowers. Yellow and orange marigolds fluttering in the air. It’s spring and I have finally gathered courage. I have booked my tickets. I have packed my bags. It’s spring and I am heading towards the mountains. This time, this time, I will climb a mountain.
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