Shards of life

Thirty minutes ago I lost my job.

The world you think you know evaporates.
Plans.
Courses.
Holidays.
A feeling of value.
An echo of the past came up and punched me in the face.
Something I rationalised.
Something I sorted.
Something I almost got past.
Something I tried to draw strength from. Like they say you should.
Something out of my control.


I imagine the feeling is the same as finding your husband or wife is having an affair.
Your first born shot in the front line. Forgive the analogy. I mean no disrespect.
A bus crash on a Columbian road or a holiday train falling off a steep cliff.
A terrible incident mercilessly exploding out of the blue.
An act of terror.

I can understand a little better about those at the damp end of the credit crunch.
Living on margins and falling off.
And a memory comes of an excellent BBC production some years back called Holding On.
Your attempts to hold on by wearing the right shoes, the broadest gait, the strongest foundations you can effect.
But trouble comes anyway.
The sinking feeling.
Searing regret.
Lost control.
Self-indulgent upset.
It comes anyway.

Five minutes ago I got my job back.
An administrative error.
A judgement I managed to talk my way out of.

What do I learn?
That a simple life is the best?
The more we complicate, the more one of these things could happen to you.
Keep your options open but close them down when you can.
More eggs, more baskets.
Open doors but slam a few shut occasionally.
It gets draughty otherwise.
You can go from a feeling of great riches, in reasonable health and humour to great poverty of circumstance and pain.

In an instant.

It's fragile, this world.