Gold day

Oct 3, 2008.

The sky was blue today. It is remarkable enough to have a break in the rain that we have been subject to these last weeks, and more remarkable because I could draw back a piece of red wool and look up at it, past the rooftops. As I did yesterday, I spent the afternoon quiet as a mouse sitting with Nima. I worked on my brown dress, turning it and piecing it into something a bit more in keeping with my surroundings. The skirts women wear in this quarter are very broad, not form fitting at all. They allow a greater range of motion, but they are heavier. I also worked on a small project for Nima, for she was fretting about it so. It had been commissioned to be done today and naught would have it but she tried to get swollen joints to hold needle and thread, despite the way she dropped them continually. So there is that.

When I started keeping a journal, I thought it would be a good way to keep track of things to do. I knew that a journal was something one wrote in daily, so that was my rule. I wrote daily. Sometimes I do not write much, but it is an exercise in discipline as much as anything else. I believe in doing things right for their own sake, not because anyone will notice or care that I do them. I prefer people do not notice my actions, for if they notice, then I am not being sufficiently invisible about caring for them. To provide a steady, invisible comfort and stability is the highest aspiration I believe in.

In that way, our time here suits me. There is nothing more invisible than nonexistence. I am visible to my children, of necessity, for they have need of that, and I think Heiye and Sev notice me. Nima’s sewing reminds me of that, because it is her name that will attach itself to the work.

I’d grown used to sleeping with Sev warm beside me. Thirty-odd years sleeping alone and four even odder months falling asleep listening to him breathe and half-waking in the night when he has bad dreams, and I care more for the bad dreams than for my solitude.

He tends to vary between cheerful mania and a cheerful melancholia, though neither so strongly as to drive him to his bed or to madness. While his mood has certainly drifted towards mania, these past few weeks, the cheerful aspect of his nature has been somewhat lacking since our recent argument. If I had to guess, I would guess he is not telling me something, because it is something unpleasant. Now, certainly many of his plans I do not know, by reason of secrecy and by reason of me not wanting to spend all our time together going over and over ways to end the lives of men. Still, I am uncertain. I think it traces back, also, to the man he had to kill nearby here, with Heiye. Heiye, too, has been slightly out of his usual mode since then. Quieter, more deferential to the twins. These past few months he had started treating them slightly less like a lord and a lady. Right now, I can see him through the half open door, sitting in a chair in the half-dark of the evening. He has no candle lit, but he just sits, playing with a little blue stone ship – the one Sev made, I think, some time back.

If Sev were here, I would ask him. If Sev were here, he would choose not to tell me.

I need to stop thinking about things I cannot change.

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