although he would not tell you why initially

Lately, I've been measuring life in weeks, dictated by the volumes that I pull off of the bookshelf, slowly feeling myself fall into greater unease as they pass and my footfalls grow heavier. Sometimes, it feels as though all I ever do is wander towards the rec room, impressed by the fact that I only have so many weeks to try and learn what it means to be a caretaker, a guardian, a parent. A few weeks ago, I finally came to accept that as my greatest priority, one that I didn't want to think of with any amount of fear or trepidation. Parenting's hard enough without living in fear of it.

Mostly, I've managed. I know what I should be eating, I know how much to sleep, I know what changes to expect from my body for the next month, almost down to the day. Before I lost everything, studying was never a problem, and I guess some things never change.

It's the rest that I feel passing me in a blur. Hiding while the island forgot itself. Warily watching as people find themselves seized by fear at various points in the day. I haven't decided how to tackle any of that just yet. I find myself avoiding the very thought of it, running away as I always do, spending a couple hours swimming every day instead, enjoying the way the water buoys me up, almost lets me forget.

My feet sink awkwardly into the sand, balance still imperfect as I head to shore after my swim today, hair dripping all over the place and a towel hastily wrapped around my middle.

It's just another day, I tell myself.