Midwinter Eve
I write, therefore not slide entirely into depression. It doesn’t have the same ring as ‘I think therefore I am,’ but it tells the truth, and this year feels like a year of telling the truth. I knew this day would come, a day neither of my parents would be here. I will stay with my aunt and spend Christmas Day with my brother and his family. It’s time to build a new normal, at least one in this corner of my life. I have no idea what will happen next year.
I can’t imagine the day I get the vaccine; I can’t even imagine what ‘normal’ looks like because I am not the same person. Whoever that person was, she died this year too. Did I say it before? Grief has a way of playing with memory, and every time I think the fog lifted, another reminder my brain has not returned to some focus.
I read an article about people thrilled with this new Christmas set up. No family pressure, no hopscotching from one home to another, just the immediate household. I nearly wanted to throw my computer. Earlier that day, a friend cried on the phone about not seeing her family, her elderly parents too scared of exposure. For every person happy not deal with holiday social pressure, two people face Chrismas alone, not by choice. My aunt doesn’t mind it; she likes it. Me? I am not ready for that moment yet.
I am glad to be off work for a while and clear my head. Tomorrow promises to be nice, and the skies will clear up for the ‘Great Conjunction’ Whether it’s like the Christmas star thousands of years ago or not, it’s one of those moments worth seeing. I don’t expect God to talk to me or some other mystical event. The more I read about the conjunction, the more it sounds beautiful, and I want to see something beautiful. That’s what I want for Christmas, a clear view of the conjunction and witness that beauty.
