I'm not crazy I'm just a little unwell, kind of sums up my mental state right now. Guess it's the change of seasons. It's getting cold, and the days are growing short. Christmas is coming around again.
Back in the Victorian period, people went through a year of official mourning before they put off their blacks and switched to gray and purple. Y'know, semi-mourning. I think maybe the Victorians had something when it came to time lines. You can't go through the seasons without comparisons. My birthday was...pretty bad. The kids wanted to take me out. My mom hinted around, and all I wanted was to go to the cemetery.
And that in itself is a measure of how much I've healed. I can say cemetery without using euphemisms. Me and the lady with the kalanchoes--we get along. Every time I go, there's a pot of kalanchoes one row over. It changes from time to time, for weeks it'll be orange, and then it'll turn red, or yellow. When it tips over, I straighten it up. The week I brought flowers without being able to find a vase, she found a vase for me. Maybe she thinks of me as the stargazer person, I don't know.
Stargazer season is over, but there are always roses and kalanchoes.
6 comments:
flowers are always nice.
It's always stargazer season, sweetie. Especially in Seattle.
Thanks, Jeanna. :)
hey, Cowboy. Thanks for the texts. uhm, yeah--okay, (((hugs)) anyway. Don't drop dead in shock.
I like what Jeanna wrote. I wish I'd written something eerily similar to it at exactly the same time.
Us "anonymous" bloggy pals are always with you in spirit. I know it seems corny, maybe impossible, but a writer (ahem, like you) should never waste time doubting it.
sigh
hugs
grin
It would be nice if modern society would be a little more respectful of mourning. I don't necessarily want to wear black or be looked down on for having fun while in mourning, but I hate the way people try to cheer you up now a days. Enough already! When we are in that much pain, we have a right hang around at the cemetary, not leave the house, or let our hair get a little ratty. We one thing I liked about the way people acted when my grandfather died was all the casserol. Not having to cook for a while was a very, very good thing.
Exactly, Alice! I'm with you on everything you said. Three years ago when I came to L.A., it was following a divorce from my best friend, leaving my family, the city where I grew up, and trying to acclimate in an entirely different city. It was SUCH a rude awakening and I hated it for a long, long time. And the more people tried to get me to smile and have fun, the less I wanted to do of either because I was MISERABLE.
I've blocked out so much in the last few years, it's crazy.
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