It’s done, for all intents and purposes. I’m out.
Relieved of the House of the Deceiver and (Her) Believer. Residence no. 5 since July.
Not that I’m keeping track. Okay, I am. Once a precisionist, always a precisionist.
Posts prior speaks volumes and must be read to appreciate the weight and burden lifted from my already-strained back.
When the cloud of dust, vibrational radiation and cheap rose perfume diminishes, I’ll look back with the wistfulness of a man/employee whose hand is crushed in a construction project.
When that’s passed, then perhaps with the jaded dark humor that a certain breed of writers does best.
Until then, there are but four words to exclaim. Four short words and one not officially a word far as I know. Fuckin’ A I’m out!!!
And the noose — the Nancy noose it is to be called — hangs at the threshold of the former house. Dangling swinging invitingly seductive to eyes and minds unaware.
That cloying cheap rose perfume, that won’t be easy to wash off from memory. Scents speak. They linger years and decades after their carrier’s presence is passed. Those who have lost a person of significance or beloved know of this truth.
One final trip to the former house to tie up threads within the next coupla days and it’ll be done done. On paper. Memories and the pangs of sharp experiences and lying tongue dissipate less rapidly, comparatively.
I felt FELT the Nancy noose hovering within the house upon my final departure. When I return anon, it’ll be there still. Sad.
I’m grateful and blessed to be in a (new) space protected and safe. In the words of old hippies, keep on truckin’. In the words of Neil Young, who needs no introduction amongst those who know me or music sphere: Keep on rockin’ in the free world!
Residence no. 5 done. Time’ll reveal the tale of the new and the next: no. 6.