Photo by Dininda Paranahewa
2 more days. It’s not enough.
Here I sit, on a Saturday morning, still bleary-eyed with sleepiness, with my mug of steaming milo sitting next to me, and I’m panicking.
Not in a hysterical, running-about-screaming sort of way. It’s a more insidious type of panic, lining your insides like a coat of paint which never really dries. It’s always fresh, it never really settles. It never screams out its presence but lurks around; nagging at you, reminding you discreetly that it’s always there. Waiting.
I’m panicking because of one word.
One word I am going to have to say in just 2 days. And it’s a word I have never been less ready to say.
In just 2 days, one of the most gratifying experiences of my life will come to an end, and I will have to say that awful, awful word to both the experience itself and to every single person that made it happen.
Even though I’m going to try, I don’t think I can do justice to everything that’s happened in my life in the past 5 months. It’s too much. Too close to home. Too personal for me to be very objective about it. I guess that’s part of why it’s so special.
For those who don’t know what I’m talking about…
On the night of the 1st of March 2009, Hamlet at Elsie’s Bar will close for business. And on the 2nd, I know I’ll be heartbroken that I will not be able to go back there again, to meet with my friends, my children, my family.