You only know what you’ve got when it’s gone

There is a moment when it happens. It’s often tiny, it’s almost always unexpected: at least, in its particular position. It happens. The moment so small you can step on it and it isn’t harmed. You pass it by, and while you may not spot what it is, you know that everything has changed. You know that it’s over.
You were probably aware that it was imminent, whether consciously or not, but this awareness never quite prepares you. You may even try to finish it yourself, but it’s not your decision to make. This is counter-intuitive. Some things, however, have a life of their own. This particular one started last December – at least, that’s when it started in earnest. It finished yesterday. Not in the way I expected it to.
Now I am ever-so-slightly lost. Unsure how to behave, unsure what to do. Strangely, I’m always unprepared for this moment, though I’ve been here before, and will be so again. A large and important part of my life has moved on. It affected everything I did, even when it wasn’t actively, actually there with me. It was always with me, and now it’s gone.
This is what it feels like when I finish a book. All the writing is gone from me. I’ll write again, for sure.
Just not today.

3 thoughts on “You only know what you’ve got when it’s gone

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *