Head like woodpecker, heart like jelly these days. Body slugging on trains, gawking at screens, bouncing on dancefloors. Still trying to settle. Love the (un)steadyness of ink sploshing.
Alan / A-Lan, April 2024.
Yesterday I met a kingfisher as the sky pulsed its motherlodey energy. I had a sliding doors moment on 2 trains. When I finally get near my stop, Johnny Cash’s ‘Hurt’ is playing on my headphones. The man next to me is crying. I unplugged and held him. He just lost his best friend, not long after losing his mum. It was strange: touching a stranger gasping with tears, their intimate sounds tumbling into my shoulder. And yet it felt natural to be there with him. Alan.
When I arrive at my parents, Ma tells me that Uncle in Vietnam is dying. Niece is there with her birdsong book, testing my knowledge as I cry. She’s dancing to the wren, her favourite. I answer her questions about Uncle. I explain why he can’t get better. That he is me and Daddy’s “uncle Matt” to help her understand the relationship, “my auntie’s husband”. Later when we finally leave for our climbing outing, her siblings are confusingly asking me if uncle Matt is ok, is he dying?? Oh lordy, this is a typical sketch of communication in my family (earlier that day, everyone thought Uncle had already died… He did. It was me who misunderstood). We wanna catch the next train so we skip down the high street flying past all the trafficked cars.
♥️
