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On my way home, the train I was on passed over a bridge. I saw the sun breaking through the clouds and the sky becoming more and more blue, by the minute. Sunshine in December! A true rarity hereabouts, sort of like snow in July.

These blue skies returning from their month-long absence, made me think about what my mother’s husband had said at the end of his terminal illness; “I would feel lucky if I were just able to keep looking at the sky every day, to feel happy if it’s blue, and get to complain, if it’s cloudy and grey”. I’ll never forget those words; I keep returning to them for comfort when things are awful, and to feel gratefulness, when I catch glimpses of happiness.

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Still lingering inside that thought, I noticed a man sitting across from me on the train. He had the looks and clothes of a homeless person, or at least someone with an extreme drinking problem. His hands were covered with old tattoos, the kind you get in prison. I felt him looking at me, and I suddenly noticed that his face was an almost exact copy of Anthony Hopkins’ in Silence of the lambs. But it was just the physical likeness, the facial expression on this man was entirely kind, although a bit sad. Because of this, I found the likeness and the association completely absurd.

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I wanted to smile at the absurdities in life, but of course I didn’t want this man to think I was in any way smiling about him or his situation. I didn’t want to bother this man, or stir anything in his current mild mood. So I turned my gaze towards the sky and continued on my own train of thought, the man still inside that train too, though. He did not know this about me, but I knew more about despair than he could ever imagine. Could he see it in my eyes; the sorrow that no one knows about? I suddenly felt such relief; to be alive, to be able to see the blue sky, to have a home.

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Although I did not speak to the man, I hoped he would find some relief too, some day.

Arriving home, I sat down to eat my take out food; corn chicken with rice, grilled vegetables and tzatziki, you know the Greek yoghurt sauce.

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It was a delicious meal and I ate it while watching my new favorite TV show “Mr. Robot” (thanks again to one of my fellow bloggers for the recommendation). My cat, having no concept of time, thought I’d been away for a terribly long time, even though I’d only worked half the day. So he insisted on sitting in my lap, which was impractical but very cosy and warm.

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After a rough week at work, this is my little slice of happiness. To some, it may not sound like much, but to me, this day has been the absolute best it could be, considering my circumstances.

I am actually invited to some pub night with work mates tonight, but I just don’t feel like it; noisy, loud, and drunk people all over. For now, I want to stay away from that environment with alcohol, as much as possible, since in the past it’s made my judgement very cloudy. It tended to make me contact The One We Do Not Speak of Right Now. So I am making this choice for my health, now.

Days like today are rare, but good. I don’t even feel the urge to break No Contact today. This amazes me. Is there something healthy inside me still, after all that toxicity? Something is stirring, sprouting, growing, inside of me, if only for today. I think it’s called hope.

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