Our oldest cat died yesterday and it made me more emotional than I expected. I wrote a long piece (in Dutch) on her life yesterday. For that post I dug around in my photo archive and that’s probably why I got all nostalgic and sad. I came across all the holidays and short trips the Man and I made together. Switzerland, France, Denmark, Canada to name just a few. Travel got tremendously reduced when Daughter was born. This year she turned four and as this is the last year school is not mandatory for her, I always marked this year as a year to explore Europe together. Take a long weekend and visit Copenhagen. Or to visit our friends in Switzerland. We have a painting of the Eiffel Tower in our living room. It would be so cool to show her the real thing.

Daughter turning four was not the celebratory ritual it was for kids turning four the year before. Starting in school was messy. And care free travel during the Summer holiday impossible. Being confronted with all the lovely carefree moments the Man and I shared while traveling, I realised that I don’t know how long it will take before carefree travel will return. If at all. I long to surround myself with Alps for a while. Or visit Legoland with Daughter. Or introduce her to flødeboller in Tivoli.

We’re only halfway through this global gap year, so I don’t want to be too gloomy. At some point in time we will have to deal with the reality of this pandemic. We either get successfully vaccinated or we collectively accept the consequences of falling ill. Like we accept the possibility of getting involved in a crash when driving a car. Or to develop cancer when indulging in smoking and alcohol.

For now though, I just miss the variety of life. One day turns into another, and into another, and in another one. I’ve noticed my inspiration for writing, for creating, started to slip away. Neil Gaiman described something similar when talking to David Tennant. When all days look exactly the same, confined to the same space, what triggers you to an unexpected thought? Or a new connection between two ordinary things?

So yeah, the death of a feline roommate pushed me over to the dark side for a bit. And that’s OK. I need to grieve. For the loss of my cat. For all the anticipated exciting moments that didn’t happen during the year in which she died. All I can do is accept the tears for the days to come. And then, when most of the tears dried up, I’ll put on my shoes again and walk out the door. Just to witness the world keeps on spinning. Every new morning is a day closer to the day I can get in the car and show Daughter the world beyond Dutch borders. Until then, we’ll explore the flat land surrounding us together. And that’s OK.