A pair of postcards from my brain

I framed a print of the doors to the Mines of Moria this week, and hung it on the wall next to the front door.  This was something Jay & I ordered together, along with what turned out to be a god-awful ugly poster of the Argonath. I'm still on the hunt for a better version of them.

The hanging of and placement of this print were very important to me - it had to be by the front door - for reasons I couldn't identify.

Then yesterday it hit me: the door to the Mines led to the death of the one counted on to lead the group through to the end. Walking out our front door and entering the clinical trial was our version of opening the door to the Mines.

And I lost the one I counted on most.

* * *

I'm now sleeping on a new set of sheets. This doesn't sound like that big a deal, but it's the first set of sheets for the big bed that Jay never slept on. I thought it was important to have one set that had my energy and not his, since eventually I will have lovers again, and they will sleep (and other things) in that bed.

For now, though, given that it's just me in that big bed, it feels strange and a little bit like a betrayal.