Nostalgia arises during this Christmas season thinking of my mother and friend Sue who also died, but several years after my mother’s death. Sitting creek side, wistful for either’s company, the pain doesn’t dig as deep as when they first left.

Two women loved, not something that comes easy for me, love and closeness, yet found with each of them. The cat curls up next to me by the fire as wind whistles like a crying baby right outside the window causing the Quince branches to lightly brush against the glass.

No snow, which would be welcome right now as Christmas approaches because it whitens the darkness with festivity. Perhaps festivity isn’t in order as so much blackness occurs across the country. Yet my need for internal calm calls for blocking that out, knowing intellectually what’s going on but not feeling it.

Sometimes denial is a form a sanity. Sometimes living in a bubble is the only safe way to live physically and emotionally, especially right now during the worst of it. While blackness oozes, somehow make light.

6 thoughts on “BLACK AND LIGHT

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