Iris

It’s was a call that woke me in the in the early grey hours just before dawn. All week I've been expecting this call, and my throat filled with heart every time the phone rang. There's no going back to sleep now. The voice on the line is disturbingly collected and I feel nothing.

I think we all expect life to be like in the movies from time to time with instant chocks and spiring crescendos, but here in my room, life takes its time to crawl under my skin - meander through the grey matter to finally rest in that shrine of memories weaved in neurons. I have a hero there safely wrapped in myth and recollections, and when I draw on this corner of my mind I smell a little home in Enköping, Sweden, with the promise of good food, and afternoon walks. I see a smiling face and I feel love, kindness, strength, compassion, but most of all the brightness of a spirits - that never aged or withered.

This morning, my beloved grandmother passed. My eyes burn as I head for bed tonight - I've been tapped dry of tears.