I have overshot, or undershot.
Whatever it was, I did not reach the intended target.
I seem to be floating aimlessly in limbo, neither here nor there.
My body aches from death and rebirth and all the lifting of suitcases and boxes the process entailed.
It was exhausting.
Muffled sounds from here mixed with the echoes from there make everything unintelligible.
Then there’s crocodile we saw on our way to get coffee.
Not even Frida Kahlo could have thought of that one.
The jungle surrounds us. Distant echoes of the concrete jungle we once called home –and let slip between our fingers- mix playfully with the nuños among the wet long grass.
I miss you. All of you. Each of you.
I also miss me and all that could have been but never was.
Another story left unfinished.
And so begins the process of rebuilding.
I will soon gain the strength and the will to lift the hammer and break the muffled silence. Shatter the emptiness and beat the drum to the song of new memories. That quiet, quiet song I can’t quite hear yet but know is coming.
The promise of a brand new shiny world.
for now I don’t yet have the strength. I only miss you.