Here I sit, listening to the Weather Channel predict a foot of snow by tonight with 45 mile an hour winds. It looks like the plans we had for tomorrow will likely not happen until Friday. We are still going to probably go, just not as soon.
It is what it is.
It is Boxing Day. Yesterday was Christmas. And it was a Christmas to remember.
I started the day out by stopping by the house where I grew up. Intellectually I understand that nothing stays the same… time passes… things change… This was THE hardest thing I have done in a long long time.
The house is still there. There are things growing from the gutters (downward growing grass is what it looked like). The siding is disintegrating. The lights lent an air of warm coziness that really wasn’t there.
The dogwood tree is dead. The pear tree is dead. The corn crib, the wagon shed, the barn and Sonny’s shanty have all fallen down. The wishing well (the one thing I actually went to take a picture of) has no roof and the stones have fallen away. Ironically I found out what was inside the wishing well. The stones were cemented around a washing machine tub. We recycled before recycling was cool.
I took pictures. I even took pictures of the spring house where watermelons stayed freezy freezy cold and alligators guarded them.
I took a couple of rocks.
I took the heavy heart that the pictures in my mind don’t/can’t/won’t match the pictures I took. I have a feeling I’m going to be putting all of this into a story somewhere…
It was a chemo brain day REALLY bad, so the two sentences that I managed to get written were lonely and difficult. I hurt my son’s feeling because I was trying to think over the confusion about a conversation I was trying to have and he was being his wonderful self. I love him dearly and it bothers me still that I hurt his feelings.
Presents were exchanged. Tears were shed.
The most epic Pink Fluffy Stuff War of 2012 was amazing.
It’s been an interesting Christmas.