Occasional housemate is preparing to travel.
Preparations for Pesach coincide with getting ready for filing taxes.
Weather is changing, and can't decide what it really wants to do.
I have opened the computer, dealt with all the announcements of disaster that have come in during the last two days, am preparing to go upstairs.
I notice that there are still miscellaneous items on the bedside table on my beloved's side, that I have not touched. And the drawers of cd's that he liked to listen to before bed. I notice that I don't play them when I come upstairs at night, because they remind me too much of the missing presence. But they are still there, both reminding me that he is gone but present as if he were not...
There are books on his side of the bed that would only be there because of him...Lives of the Saints, alongside material in Hebrew.
It's the approaching-Pesach mentality that's got me in its grip: I am supposed to be cleaning out chometz.
Which of those things is chometz, given to fermenting?
I notice that I still sleep on "my" side of the bed. I no longer waken expecting to feel him there;
I have grown accustomed to the absence.
But I still do not take it for granted.
And I do not like it one little bit.