Time Keeps on Slipping Into The Future

Alone. Day in and day out. My dog never more than a couple feet from me most of the time. My sister has called and texted a lot, but has never inquired why I don't answer.  Others have, thankfully, just stopped reaching out. I actually understand Garbo's desire to be alone.  


I have been through a wringer over the last 3 years.  Some may go through tough stuff and claim they are bowed

but not broken. Me, I'd say my state is akin to a doublewide in an Alabama Mobile Home Park that was hit by a tornado in the night. I'd do a side-by-side comparison, but I'm afraid my visage would make me a liar. I actually would fare far worse than the mobile home under such direct comparison.

My kids are resilient, extraordinarily so. I feel like laundry hanging on a January clothesline in Seattle. I am blown around in the wind and battered by the rain, hung out to dry but always all wet. 

Two years ago today, Jenny's decline was exploding. (This is, and has been,  my hardest month each year, generally. I miss the sun.) It also was the beginning of the end of the long march for Jenny. Between her worsening health,  her constant mistreatment of the kids and me, her impending death, and my subsequent discoveries of the depths of her betrayal, I hate this time of year more than I could have guessed could be true. 

I avoided dinner with my kid, haven't answered the phone or left the house. Now that foodstuffs and other items can be delivered, I can just hide. My mailbox, at the end of the cul-de-sac, I checked the other day  for the first time since Abby went back to school. The three weeks worth of mail was a lot. I did go to the store yesterday, but only to get cash for the handyman. I so rarely go out that I only discovered my pharmacy had closed when I got a letter in the mail.

I try not to think. I am watching a lot of Youtube, which is of great assistance in turning off my brain.

If I could, I would hop on a plane tomorrow and fly somewhere warm and sunny.


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