New Day

I’m still here. November 5th has been and gone like a storm and the new morning feels brighter than many I’ve seen recently. I’ve actually slept for a change, and the fog and numbness has lifted.

In some ways I’m coming to think of this time of year as my own personal New Year – not through some form of celebration of the time, but more for the sense of renewal I feel once it has passed. The lead up to the anniversary of the attack is like sucking molasses beneath my feet, but today feels… normal?

Horrible word, should be banned really – but for the moment it encapsulates where I am. There’s no dread, no head stuffed full of wool, no disconnect between brain and gut feelings – just quiet. I’m still tired, and I have the faint traces of a stuffed up nose and aches at the base of my spine, but if that’s the worst I feel today it’s such a huge improvement as to be a miracle cure.

As I sit here at my desk and look out the window, I can see the colours of autumn in the screen of trees out the back of my flat. There’s golden sunshine, and the upper branches are swaying in what looks like a steady breeze. There’s enough of a chill in the air that I’ve put on a hoodie over my t-shirt, but I have coffee and a sudden urge to write again.