But then I get home and everything starts going wrong. I step out of my car and immediately blank on several of the zmirot and niggunim I'm trying my damnedest to remember. I go on my computer; a mistake, because everything on here seems too mundane. I look at my pictures; a distressingly high percentage are crap. My mom managed to immediately start giving me things to do, not able to respect the space I need, the halo of havurah I still carry with me.
I've just been given a swift kick, booted from Briyah to Assiyah. It was way too fast; my emotions have the bends. I need to find a way to decompress. Meanwhile, I look back on the week through this warped lens, and it seems much less moving than it was. But it was probably only the crash that was hard; the buildup was slow, and that's all that matters.
If I go to sleep now, after only sleeping slightly over 2 hours last night and less than 10 for the last three, that may help. So will going back to Mount Airy tomorrow to see Benj and Sylvia and Christine and others, and help unload the truck. And going to the next Kol Zimrah service in New York in 3 weeks. All I know is that I need these people back, and whether I have them on shabbat, while doing heavy lifting, or in my dreams, it's what I have to hang onto now.
[Coherancy may be fixed and new entries may be posted after some time has been spent sleeping.]