Every time I think there is light at the end of the tunnel I make the mistake of blinking. In a flash the tunnel shudders and grows and suddenly an expanse of twists and turns is all I see.
I cannot find the light. I cannot find the light at the end of a work project or team or even stint. I cannot find the light in people, blessed as I am to have such lovely ones with me. I cannot find the light in books or research or giving tuition or cooking. I cannot find the light at the end of the bottle, although with every glass everything around me shimmers and hints at the possibility of light.
When I am with people I smile and make jokes and do the best impression I can of Tinker Bell, light and pretty with a light inside of me.
When I am alone I realise how familiar I am sitting in the dark. I am Bell in all her jealousy, her spite, her frustration, that comes sputtering out in huge choking heaves.
If you get used to darkness you don’t worry about not reaching the light