Life and death. [Day two]

Circles

I'm struggling to disassociate Charlie from the limp, lifeless body he left behind in my lap. I want to to file that memory away in a different place from the memories I keep of his life. I want the Charlie in my memory to always be that beautiful dog sleeping at the end of my bed, following me around the house, running to greet me at the door. I want to remember him as the odd mix of wise old man and perpetual puppy that he was since he could fit in my hand and would steal my socks to keep in a pile in the backyard.

But this last memory is still so fresh.

Watching the vet inject that bright green fluid into his veins and feeling his breath quicken and then ... stop. Blinking away my tears because he deserved for his last moments to be seen and known, not lost in the blur of hot salty tears and grief.

Mum told me that she could never have another pet. She couldn't handle the pain of saying goodbye. That goodbye felt like poison surging through every part of my body, but I know that this brief period in which the pain is strongest is nothing to the years of joy and love he brought to my life. I haven't lived in the same house as him for over eighteen months; I feel guilty for the moments I almost forget that he is gone. But I don't see him in this house. I see him at the end of my old double bed, not the queen I share with Tom. I see him trying to sneak out of the front gate at my Mum's house, not under our Magnolia tree. And I feel the warmth of his body as I hold him for the very last time. As I say goodbye.

Blogging Every Day in August

When I fall out of the habit of blogging on a regular basis, which I have obviously done, I seem to also fall into a pattern of writing and rewriting the same posts over and over but never hitting the Publish button. I have a number of things I'd like to write about, but my attempts have aways frustrated me and led me to edit my own voice out of my writing. 

I've decided to blog every weekday of August. They wont necessarily be long posts, but I will write every day and I will have no choice but to hit Publish. Perhaps one day I will look back on my words and cringe, but at least I'll have something to look back over. 

The August Break [day one]

Breakfast

Black coffee & pesto on sourdough. The world wakes in dew and frost. I sit by the window and watch the garden. Every other day this week I've eaten before the sun has risen; this is a rare treat. 

At the very last minute, I've decided to participate in the August Break. The idea is that you have a simple photo prompt and you can decide to write or not. If you're organised enough to have an editorial schedule it would be a nice break from the pressure of blogging.

But not only do I fail to keep to any semblance of an editorial schedule, I've also failed to hit the Publish button on a number of posts I've got sitting in my drafts folder in the last month or so. I've lost the habit and I think I've also lost a bit of confidence. I keep editing and editing (something I never usually do a great deal) but I never put these posts up because eventually I've edited my own voice out of my writing.

So rather than treating this like a break, I'm going to take this month of prompts to get back into the habit of blogging. I miss it. I'll write a little or a lot, but each day I will have a post up on the blog and hopefully I will remember what it is that makes this process so cathartic and rewarding.