Days
What are days for?
Days are where we live.
They come, they wake us
Time and time over.
They are to be happy in:
Where can we live but days?
Ah, solving that question
Brings the priest and the doctor
In their long coats
Running over the fields.
– Philip Larkin (British poet, 1922-1985)
I feel a sense of normalcy returning, after the complexities and irregularities and "always on" effort of the trip. I definitely have needed to find some down time. One notable aspect of my sense of self, in the wake of the trip, is a feeling of having finally crossed some milestone with respect to my recovery from my illness. Until this trip, there was some feeling that I was still in a sort of extended convalescence. By traveling back to the US, I have in a way declared my full recovery. There is actually a kind of ambivalence about this. The long, complicated, traumatic battle with cancer has evolved into a typical dysfunctional relationship – both resented and clung to. It's hard to let go, even though it's necessary.
The days pass. It's good to see my students, some of whom even seem to have missed me.
[daily log: walking, 7km]