So. He’s gone and I’m at my grandparents. The latter might not have been the most brilliant decision ever. True, if I hadn’t gone now, I wouldn’t have been able to make it until some time in November, which would have left them waiting for a visit rather a bit longer than preferrable. On the other hand, it’s so quiet here that I have very little to prevent me continually thinking about the next 7 days.
I’m rereading OotP (Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix) to distract myself – which sort of helps. As long as I’m reading I’m at least not thinking about anything else. But my grandfather is world champion in dalmilling*, so I keep being distracted from the distraction, so to say, and so have plenty of opportunity to experience flashes of acute longing.
I’m torn between feeling immensly sorry for myself and two more positive emotions – a sort of gratitude that I’ve actually found someone to miss so intensly (I was beginning to doubt the possibility) and fascination at the totally out-of-character flavour of it all: I do not want to spend time with anyone 24/7 – at least, I never used to want it before. Alarmingly, I talked to my mother earlier – my father is in Finnmark for some job-thingamagig – and she claims it doesn’t actually get any easier. And they’ve been married for 30 years… I hope, at least, that it’s possible to get a bit more used to the feeling. At the moment it seems especially fervent because it takes me by surprise every time it hits. Still, I’d rather feel like this than not – I’ve been humming Bjørn Eidsvåg. Specifically:
Eg like å savna – då kjenne eg at eg høre te,
då vet eg at eg e glad i nåken, som gjør meg te den eg e.
(“I like to miss – I feel then that I belong,
I know then that I love someone, that makes me who I am”)
I hope, at least, that he’s having a good time. It would be a pity to go though this for no good reason.
10 hours down, 164 to go.
Voice in my head: whasername – It might as well rain until September (except it’s already September, so that’s a bit silly)
Hey, at least you still GOT grandparents to visit and to be dalmilled by. How’s the cat?
(me want cat. not *that* cat, just *cat*)
I know, I know. I ought to be grateful. And, see, I have a bad conscience about not enjoying myself when I’m there, and that makes me enjoy myself even less. Hopeless case.
Sorry. The cat. The cat’s fine. Just as spoilt as ever, but he seems to be handling it ok (hasn’t grown excessively fat or anything, which is a wonder considering how often he’s fed).