Sometimes when I want to silence the crying inside my head I go to Walden. It is the still white layer upon layer of snow, which hides Walden from me, which hides me from my world.
I walk, hands in pockets to keep out the cold, eyes downturned to keep out the sun, feet gingerly feeling for ice to keep safe, until I find a place to sit and stare.
Walden is near deserted when I arrive, and if I see someone (and often I see someone) I know, I turn the other way, or retreat behind the hood of my coat, or the dark lens of my glasses, and stop, as if by stopping it will camouflage me. Woman in burgundy coat against white snow and ice.
So I sit and think of nothing. Despite it being five and a half months since my daughter left me for the other side, despite my truly believing she is free and happy and dancing like she couldn’t dance in her body, despite knowing she is there, everywhere, and that she comes to me, in dreams and in her own time and way. Despite all this, it sometimes feels unbearable.
As if it was just yesterday I said good bye.