Meditations on ritual.

Humans are creatures of habit and of ritual. (Which I suppose are similar things, just the second is habit imbued with a greater meaning.). And when those are disrupted, you can feel kind of out of sorts for a while. That’s me today.

Emma have morning rituals for the work days we share. The alarm goes off and I hit one snooze. We walk to the bus, sit down, and my arm goes around her shoulders. It’s just how things go.

This morning, she’s nor feeling well, so she’s not going to work. But I am, just without her. This happens on Saturdays and Sundays, when I work and she doesn’t, and she goes without me on Thursdays and Fridays. So it’s not unknown.

But it’s 7:00 AM on Wednesday and Emma isn’t here. And it feels weird.

I miss her snuggled against me, napping a little on the trip in, holding her as the bus turns. I’m going to miss kissing her at University Street, then waving as she goes past on the upper gallery as I wait for my bus in the main station below. The little moments that make up our lives together.

Maybe that’s silly. But it’s real to me.

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