This must be a common experience. To wake up, come into consciousness and while in space time split seconds, when space time settles in: the time in my life, ah yes now 67 years on this earth; where I am, ah yes the cabin; the light outside gentle so dawn; the mind turning to the day of the week, the diary event to get up for. Suddenly there is the hole, that missing that eventually finds a name. Kali. No more Kali. The day feels impossible. The longest day. All around are parties, Stonehenge celebrations, First Light, 100 emails in my in box, Rydal Mount to promote, Biodiversity Net Gain notes to write up, but I am heavy, weighed down with water steaming from my eyes.
I clean the van, brush out all of Kali’s long hairs, wash the dog baskets of his leaking urine, do what I can, slowly.
Bo called, how are you, he asked. Peoples love and sympathy are triggers for more tears. Let’s go to Wakelyns, I say, for the first time this day, getting out of myself.
The dogs and I rest in the heat of the afternoon, the hottest day of the year they say, my poor young trees roast. We rise and walk the land, do some watering in the garden – where Kali used to follow me, reluctantly for the area was unknown to him.
This is how it must be for human beings, moments of memory of when Kali was here, until they are replaced with layers of time and space.
Kaliwood 