Notes from Saturdays

There’s this thing S and I do where we post photos on Sunday nights every week to record the year. Every weekend I look at my phone gallery and there are 56 photos of stuff on site, 1 or 2 of food, maybe a page of a book, my legs in front of TV. Not much really. So on Saturday or Sunday I force myself to go for a walk after work, just so I have an image of something other than working and eating. I believe the weekly record has served its purpose. I find it sad on an inspirational level. But so very true.

I messaged and said "Dial me in. I have no Seens this year, hahaha". They said OK. Baba forwarded a message with 7 Seens in poetry, he must have received the message through a chat group or something. It was sweet. I sent a kiss back. I spent the rest of the New Year's Eve dragging my sad ass from room to room, phone in hand, staying at an acceptable proximity to M while not being in the way. He was making a roast -which turned out awful, still digesting it at 11am the next day-, then he was building his new office desk, then was announcing our drill's been stolen -which I found in the mess that's garage. I sat on the floor nearby, watching,  just as we did on these nights back Home, sitting on the kitchen floor, in the hall by the radiator, in maman's workshop past midnight, anywhere that you could hear the house around you, anywhere that life was afloat. I finally went to bed when M was done, stared at the ugly print on the wall for about 5 minutes, hugged M...