December 24, 2025
Due to a sudden illness T and I had to not go to Annie's.  We are both sad but each warm in our own homes and not passing germs.  I am here alone with a burning purple votive and frankincense.   

I made the decision at seven thirty this morning to be nice to myself all day, but I realized I wasn't quite sure what that meant.  Normally being good to myself meant jumping out of bed and going to the pool, but this morning my instinct was to place the flannel sheet over my head and soak in the sun and not be with people.  So usually not the way I go.  This morning I stayed put.  

I worked on a card for everyone showing the images of a set of cards T. and are creating to give everyone a present.  I realize I actually do like making cards and I do like sending them this time of year and I'm sorry I didn't make solstice cards to mail out.  Maybe I will make New Year cards.  But this morning I created a note to all, this is what you will get soon.  Oh well.

Then I went to the Coop to do the puzzles.
Gerard called and said he was in town and would join me for a bit. It was so wonderful to see him.  

This year has been an interesting one for friendships.  I guess it is always true that friends float in and out of the everydayness of life, but for some reason I feel as though I have had to let go of people this year.  Not entirely, and at the same time I feel that I have gotten stronger about loving people where they're at and not control my heart from fear or even a place of expectaions, at all.  Yet, letting go of those expectations has still left kind of a feeling of loss.  This year started on the note of loss.  Michael's death came down around our shoulders and wrapped us up for a while.  I think we all thought he'd live forever.  It set a tone for the rest of the year.  That tone wasn't loss alone, but the significance of both loss and abundance together, side by side, in the same breath.   



When I woke this morning I was remembering the grey bleak weather of Dec. 13, 1972.  I remember walking out the end of the driveway with Paul, in labor, in the snow; grim and elated at the same time.  Paul drove calmly to Norwalk.  I had been in labor for quite a while by then.  We were in his old grey Mercesdes Benz, caught between two emotional worlds, joy and loss.   Yes, that's what I woke up thinking about this morning.  

I am a rememberer, a catologer of history, as Gerard referred to it today.  He and I are middle kids of large trauma backgrounds and we record and catalogue the truth daily and hold onto in case someone tries to fool us.  


After our visit, I decided to go for a short ride to the rockery where it was partly sunny and 34 degrees.  The palette today was Homeresque.  On this Christmas Eve day I saw no life.  I passed one truck and that was it.  No flocks of bluebirds, no hawk high up in a  tree, no otter or beaver to be seen.  And again you'd think that would sound depressing, but it wasn't, it was curious.  Where was everyone?   



When  I returned home I had several holiday cards in my mailbox from family and close to family.  They really make me happy.  I still want to put together a collection of images by the 6th generation of Henri Bouche's offspring.  I also want to go back to school and study everything.  Is that part of my documentation need?  Go to school, research questions, write them down, debate them, and try on another layer.  Yup, I am curious, a question asker, a researcher, a documenter, a story teller and a lover of the whole of life.  


Hey, did I mention my bestest is home?  I love them so.  Yes, my heart is really open and because of that I'm also a little over protective of myself at the moment.  But its good, and I'm certainly in better shape then I was Dec. 24, 1972, now that was difficult.

Enjoy your day tomorrow no matter what you are doing.  Be kind to yourself and others.  Embrace life.  Love.  





 

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