It's Thursday, and there's no 'Challenge' to write - no prompt issued, yet, to inspire 100 words of charm and/or wit.
It's thrown me off a bit. My expectations are suddenly not relevant and that which I had been planning for has not materialized.
I am postless.
I feel like Santa caught in his underwear.
Then again, I have no idea why Santa would BE in his underwear. Let's not go there.
We're creeping up on the holidays. It's been tough around here for the last few years during the holidays. LM's dad died on Dec. 2nd, '07. In November of the following year, LM's mom had a major stroke that almost killed her. She's in a home now, not far from here. But she can't be 'home', anymore.
Underlying all of that is December 10th. On that day, in 1980, LM and I had a stillborn girl. Her name would have been Sarah Katherine. She was 11 pounds. She was 3 weeks late. And the umbilical cord was trapped over her shoulder as she descended into the birth canal and she died the day she was born. Before she was born.
She left a hole in our lives that has never filled in. A scar, if you will, that has never healed. And in recent years, that scar has been scratched by other late year sadnesses. Her Dad. Her Mom. So there is melancholy during the Holidays, sometimes, around here.
Just sometimes, mind you. Most of the time it's too busy and crazy around here for melancholy to rear its ugly head. It's just that this time of year ... it gets a little rough.