Why Can't I Stop Thinking About the Flowers?

And crying?It's the little, seemingly superfluous things that bring me into a dark place.

As for the flowers, well, I know why they bear the brunt of my grief. I planted them and they are a great comfort to me, so the prospect of losing them is overwhelmingly painful.

We've decided to put the house on the market because of plain and simple reasons: we cannot afford to live here after K leaves his current job for the postdoc and we'll be a happier family if we can live within our means. I know all that, and rationally I understand it's the best thing to do, but this doesn't lessen the pain one bit. I know, and I hope it'll get better, but right now it's so intense I can hardly bear it.

Judging from how much I cried in the last 18 hours -- as many times as I cried during the "black hole" period from October 21-December 18 last year -- there will be much more crying now that we'll have to face the consequence of our decision to buy this house than there ever was during that unfortunate time. The flowers prompted the crying, but, as I was watering them last night,
there was one really poignant moment infused with metaphoric resonance...

As I was thinking that I had just been plunged into a dark place again, I accidentally killed a firefly and saw its crushed body slowly fade and I thought, "I killed the magic, the magic [and the light] is gone." And I cried some more, harder this time.