I remember the last day as if it were yesterday. The morning began as perfect as a painting, with a peaceful sky smiling on the golden field. We held hands and ran to the secluded picnic site. You were thrilled with the impulsive bouquet I gave you, and my soul felt light with love.
You stumbled and I caught you, hoping your ankle hadn’t twisted, but that was the least of our problems. We both looked down at the same time and saw the bones sticking up from the dirt. Of course, we had to call the authorities, and then began not only the homicide investigation but also everyone’s inquisitive noses poking into our private business.
Reality roared into our relationship like a steamroller, and events collided so quickly it was hard to keep track of their sequence. You didn’t put up a fight as your husband repudiatedyour entire marriage and left with your children. I was forced to choose my own family over you, a decision I still question to this day.
No one really believed we were engaging in the dark artsof the cult that buried those bodies, yet our reputations suffered fatal damage regardless. People will always blame the woman more than the man in these situations, though it was I who seduced you. The guilt hangs heavy on my neck like a chain of stones.
All I can do is offer bouquets of wildflowers to your final resting place, as I remember better days.
“You’re just a mooch,” she ranted. “You take no accountability for your behavior and I’m tired of it!”
His silence further enraged her and she felt driven to continue berating him. “Every morning when I leave for work you’re just lazing around doing nothing. And when I get home you expect my undivided attention. Well! How about cleaning up after yourself? Maybe that would put me in a jolly mood. What do you have to say to that?!”
He licked his paw and said, “Mrow.”
“Awwww,” she melted. “You’re lucky you’re so cute!”
This part of the coast wasn’t gentle and calm, but rough and wild, too dangerous to surf. Boulders rose out of the water like majesticdragon spines and broken glass littered the shoreline. She found the scene appealing, for it matched her savage mood. She had no desire for her fierce energy to go back into hiding; she wanted to nurture it to its fullest potential. Would that lead to her ruin? She didn’t know. But she would now attempt to live as she pleased, no matter the outcome. As the fiery sun sank into the swirling sea, she knew it was time to begin.
My thoughts spun wildly, So I went down to the sea; The waves rolled inmellow, The tide tinged with green. I absorbed the energy Of calmness and peace, Nourishedby the easy, Salt-laden breeze.
Welp, the last day of 2020 began fittingly. I went to bed early last night and then was wide awake at 2AM, so I doubt if I’ll be able to stay up until midnight tonight to kick 2020 all the way out the door unless I manage to take a nap. 😴
What a poopshow, amirite? Wish we could purge the whole thing from our memories, except for the part about my adorable grandson being born. I am not a fan of playing games over Zoom, though it’s better than nothing. Oh, somehow I managed to “lock” the keyboard of my new laptop, which sent me into a towering rage before dawn. I had to google on my phone how to unlock it, but that didn’t help, so I restarted. I don’t understand why turningoff and on fixes stuff, but wev. It’s always the last thing I think of, even after all this time. I am typing this on my laptop now, so all is good until my next meltdown.😜
I’m no stranger to making resolutions, but like most people I don’t stick to mine, so why bother? The only thing special about tomorrow is the psychological aspect regarding the year number… nothing really changes. We are still in this plague, still have to wear masks, not socialize, not eat in restaurants, yada yada. I have flight credits, but they’ll likely expire before I’m all vaxxed up. 🙁
I made a new Facebook account in April after staying away for over 2 years, and while it’s nice to reconnect with peeps WHO DON’T READ MY BLOG, that’s the only thing good about it. So much repetitive bitching and boringness otherwise. I have never understood why people feel a need to link to news articles there or quote massively from them as if we can’t find CNN for our own damn selves. It’s not like the news isn’t in our faces 24/7 every time we log on to any device. It’s so irritating!
I have been trying not to read the political stuff on FB, or participate in it, same as on Medium and here in blogland, though sometimes it’s impossible to resist. Occasionally I retweet political stuff I agree with, but I don’t comment, even when trolled. It’s still a big waste of time. I guess if I were going to have a goal for 2021, it would be to read even fewer political posts and articles than I do now. There is nothing to be gained from it and every time I spend an hour reading that crap, there goes a poem that might have been written or read. I think of it this way ~ poetry can bring beauty into this world (or at least attempt to do so), while political jabber only ever takes away from beauty. It’s all stinky trash.
So yeah… the ending of this awful year hasn’t made me feel especially galvanized to take bold action to shake up my life. There’s really nothing much I can do at this point, except keep on keeping on. And you know what? That is good enough. I’ve long since abandoned the notion of perfection, as if that’s even remotely possible to attain, and while my habits can be tweaked for the better, I’m pretty okay with my mediocrity. I look forward to doing exciting things again, such as having a veggie quesadilla inside a restaurant at a table with friends and playing a board game in person afterwards. Yeah baby. Take me back to 2019, when we didn’t know how good we had it. I suppose that’s a “privileged” thing to say, but at least I acknowledge this.
Satan shuffled the cards and glared at the other players. “Hellfire will rain down upon any cheaters in this game. I’m looking at you, Drac.”
“What can I say?” The vampire shrugged. “I’m just lucky tonight.”
Goddess Gaia rolled her eyes and popped a candy in her mouth. “Bringit, big boy. I need to schedule some earthquakes and tsunamis with Poseidon, so this is my last round. You know how cranky he gets.”
“Endingon a high note, Goddess?” Satan nodded toward her pile of chips. “Or maybe you’ll go bust.”
Gaia glanced at the cards he had just dealt to her and smiled. “We’ll see.”
“Enough bantering.” Dracula shoved a huge pile of chips to the middle of the table. “I’m all in.”
She rejoicedat the baubles he gave her, yet she would rather have his kisses each night.
Christmas morning, she walked to the sea and gazed at the emptyhorizon, knowing that waiting wasn’t really living.
Sure, she was a fine girl and would make someone a great wife, or so her customers kept saying, but instead she was wasting her best years on a pointless dream.
Tired of being a quiet little lonely mouse, she decided right then and there to seek her own adventures.
She pulled out her cell phone and called the whiskey salesman who had made it clear he liked her.
A few weeks ago, I went on a jolly Christmas binge and watched several holiday romantic comedies. I even wrote about my reactions on Medium. One prevalent theme was the glorification of rustic simplicity. So often, our protagonist can’t find love until he or she leaves a city and heads for the countryside.
Usually the departure is an impetuousone ~ or a complete accident. The protagonist doesn’t even realize they’ve been rushed, overworked, rude, cynical, etc., until they find themselves forced to relax in some charming small town where everyone is kind and helpful and filled with generosity. The message is relentlessly hammered home that city life is bad and rural life is paradise.
This theme annoyed me. I say people are the same everywhere and you can find nice folks in cities as well as bullies in small towns. I should know: I went to high school in a crappy little suburb and had to deal with a lot of jerks. Not to discountthe idea that there are mean people in cities! But according to the holiday romcoms, not only are cities bereft of any holiday spirit, but also you can’t find love until you leave. 🙄
I guess those scriptwriters never heard of “Silver Bells.” 🎶💕
As he catches the faint jingle of Christmas music, his mind drifts to thoughts of what he’s missing. He remembers the festive decorations welcoming all to a warm and lively home. Family, friends, fun, food… the last time celebrating an auspicious occasion: he’d been promoted to a manager role and was relocating.
The real estate broker assured him that the condos were just like a real house. Their descriptionincluded key words such as sunny and inviting and cozy. Cozy would be the most apt, he thinks as he nukes a frozen dinner in his tiny kitchen, resigned to spending the holiday alone. No point in going out and trying to make new friends on Christmas Eve when everyone is wearing a mask.
He walks to the window and gazes into darkness. A lonely strand of holiday lights twinkles around the palm tree in front. He has the notion to stroll outdoors and check the other windows to remind himself that he isn’t the only person on the planet. Out of habit, he goes to grab a coat, but then realizes he doesn’t need one.
