1 year ago 💘 for day 143, 2020 with 411 words.


The air today feels suffocating. Yesterday was the first properly warm day of the year here, a good 26 degrees with clear skies and bright sunshine that shone through the large windows we have all over this, our new house. Despite our attempts to keep out the warmth, by the time the sun went down, every room felt just toasty enough to be noticeable. This hadn't been a problem over the past few weeks because every evening a cool wind would blow, bringing relief for the plants and the house alike. But last night the wind, for the first time in weeks, sat down and rested. And so today, with barely a sigh of a breeze, the air feels thick. The skies are overcast and gloomy and every once in a while a few drops will fall down, confused and lost, onto the warm ground. I don't mind so much. This warm heaviness feels perfectly in tune with how my body feels, a deep and heavy weariness that feels like pressure all over. But like the overcast skies have followed a beautiful day, so does my fatigue, this time, follow a wonderful time. There is also restless sleep I had (although my Fitbit tells me otherwise, but I'm wiser than a gadget I'd argue) and the weeks of little sleep before it, but I'll focus on that memory instead. Of sitting on the back of Dim's motorcycle and spotting the lambs that were still tiny on the dyke. Of sitting on a towel near the water with green all around me, snacking on sandwiches and sipping the lemonade we brought while a lady yelled at her dog exasperatedly in the far background. Loud enough to hear, but far enough away to be funny, instead of irritating. Of talking and of laughing. Of watching the boats go by. Small ones and big ones. Ones with motors and ones with big sails dragging them speedily over the water of the lake. And then being home, sitting in the backyard with a snack and listening to the last chapters of Coraline. That's the memories I'll choose to focus on, hoping they'll cloud over the memory of how those 2 hours outside of the house were enough to exhaust both of us and how little we get to enjoy ourselves because of fatigue. I'll focus on the sunlight behind those clouds because eventually, the clouds will always part and hopefully then this tired pressure too can lift.


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By Leonie Jonk 💘

Artist & Spoonie I write about my life as an artist and as a person with chronic pain, the struggles, the rewards, the inspiration & the downfalls. Oh and occasionally the odd piece of fiction :)

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