45 The second time
It feels odd calling it that, because I don’t really remember the first time. The only way I can describe it is that I have this innate knowledge that it happened. It’s more of an acceptance, in the same way that you know one plus one is two, without having to think about it or work it out. It just is.
But it’s more than that, because it’s not something that I’m always conscious of. It’s become a part of me, something that goes on without me even realising it. Like a heartbeat. Or a breath. It carries on without you noticing, but as soon as you notice it, you can’t un-notice it without distraction. A breath is more, you see, as you can control it as soon as you notice it. That’s not so easy with a heartbeat. I’d go so far as to say impossible. This is more like a heart
