It's time to decorate the house for the holidays. Not because I'm feeling particularly jolly or tinsel-lite, but because I keep forgetting it's December and I'm hoping garish decorations will center me in the correct time and place. My niece turned nine this last weekend. NINE. That's a big number. I have a nine looming in my near future as well. Today I feel like ignoring it, wonder why we can't all have some sort of small dog size house to go curl up in on days like that. Days that demand our notice, demand we take stock.
I have this thought that you can create a hole where there isn't one simply to stare into it and wish it filled. Like worrying a tear in the seam of a pocket with your fingers. Of course that matters little once the hole is there. Chickens and eggs and Who's on first. I don't like chickens OR eggs and am long past firsts. You can stretch a hole so big it becomes everything, an entire life just sucked in and lost. My pocket is gone anyway. I don't notice much until I have a moment, standing still and forgetful. Then I slide my hand in and it discovers no warm smooth edges no fabric sewn into a square to keep treasures safe and close, just my thigh in need of a shave. It also matters little if my hand misses the pocket or wishes for yours to cover it.
Does anyone else crave solitude to alleviate loneliness? Maybe it makes it easier to take, makes it make sense at least. If I must be miserable for gawds sake let it be logical! Let it be sound and sensible behavior! *snort* Go ahead and chase that tail around for awhile. Gets the days slipping by until you don't know what month it is anymore. Just hang a strand of lights to remind you Santa has shopping to do. *
*Persons writing this blog may be less melancholy than they sound. Also, they are not cheered by well wishes so save that for another blog. ahem. and also.
Bah Humbug!
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