It’s Diwali, and fireworks are in the skies around us, celebrating the Festival of Light. A small gathering with sparklers and fountains was held on the main green outside, and the pictures in our local social media look lovely.
In the meantime I’m twitching and nervy, trying not to cringe in response to the sounds all around, while my body seems intent in remembering old injuries. This is a hard week every year, and it will pass.
I love the visuals of light in the dark, celebrating life and new growth. It’s a healthier celebration than the remembrance and symbolic destruction of a group of attempted murderers, but the memories still cling hard. This year is at least better than last year, partly from just being so stressed at work I’ve barely time for my own traumas.
But each explosion tonight reminds me of the sounds in the skies above the terrified boy in an alley being used and that’s why I’m at home with curtains closed, and not really wanting to be…anything right now.
TimMaidment.Com 