This year, last year, all the years; traditions.

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A while ago

A while ago I wrote the post below.
Now,
it is the third day after Thanksgiving,
in  a different year.
And,
I think I need a heart and head massage
and a back massage probably.

Do you think if I had a broken leg 
there would be anyone rushing over,
longing for, reaching out,
dying for connections?

Nah, I'm annoying.
But also wonderful.
Sometimes when I've annoyed,
I wish I'd been wonderful.

There was a heavy, soggy stick Penny chased into the ocean.
She keeps loping out farther than ever!
then races back to us with or without the stick,
in absolute joy!

My gray matter has scars that cause fear, loneliness.
I need to rest in that loneliness, 
not fight because it's inoperable
a physiological part of me,
and admit 
that Penny has been waiting for me,
quietly on the couch, 
for hours.

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I'm writing 

I'm writing on a Christmas card
the third night after Christmas,
because it's strewn here by my bedside
in a pile of unattended stuff. 
Everywhere you look in this house 
is unattended stuff.

I suppose I should be ashamed -don't care -
I want to care, that could lead to attempted cleanup.

This stuff will unwind itself eventually.
New Year's Eve is my goal.

This communicating thing. Can't do it.
Texts come though the phone with exclamation marks,
meaning what? 
I keep mine to "I love you!".

My fear was confirmed today: family not answering the phone.
Do they want to control the conversation, will not communicate now.
Will not.
Will not call back.
Will demand memorization of all emails, texts.
Will pout with disdain if I forget.


I'm scattered and unattending on a calm day. Forgetting is my bane.