In the kitchen, in the sink,
in the bowl, in the water,
the tv remote was drowning.
There was nobody to blame,
nothing to say how it got there.
And something whispered.
New batteries and a soft cloth,
the remote points and plays again.
But the whisper, I can hear it now.
Before today, that whisper was so quiet
I thought I didn't catch the words.
The whisper senses when something
slips, and I don't know where I am.
This was the moment when I couldn't hide the problems from myself any more. I was shocked to find the remote in the sink. But it was also funny, something so trivial, such weirdness. I'd spent weeks, months, thinking there was something wrong - then thinking I'd made it all up. And when I told the story, nobody said 'I did wonder...' I must have hidden it well.
My first thought was that the remote would never work again - but then there were more serious thoughts which needed attention. I'm glad the process started with something so odd, so ridiculous! It softens everything somehow.
And now I don't worry or judge myself when I find I've done something strange. I'm only a bit weirder than I've always been...
