The Smell of Vinegar

Good Lord, they are beautiful. Those five kids. I know four of them, one came into this world after the breakup. I haven't seen any of them up close and personal in a few years now. And I am still in love with them.

My ex's sister's kids. Got a picture of them in the mail yesterday. And I cried and cried and cried. Sometimes you go around missing people and you also forget how much you do. Not that I don't think of them regularly but you grow accustomed to the absence somehow. Woke up with puffy eyes this morning and had to use the cucumber gel.

I am really turning into a hate the holidays kind of girl. My mom called last night to ask me to make the Christmas cake. I agreed, nearly unwillingly but it's not too much for her to ask at all. I just wasn't in the mood to think anymore Christmas. All I want to do right about now is bury myself in my apartment which just a few days ago was filled with folk. I am still thankful for all of my friends who came over to celebrate the holiday with me but there's still a loneliness that I know I'm one of many who are experiencing.

The holiday season is also suicide season. Which is one of those things we don't speak of. Shh. Much. I'm not anywhere near that low but I've struggled with the holidays for the last few years and right about now it's not getting any better. Fifteen degree weather isn't helping either.

I spent the remainder of my night cleaning more dishes left over from the party, most of them are taking a while because they have some soaking to do, and I did some reading. Finished up Vinegar Hill, which was excellent though mentally intense enough to make my life look like cartwheels. The ending surprised me but I don't want to ruin it for anyone who may choose to read it. I've since moved onto Freud's Interpretation of Dreams. Should make for some interesting reading, albeit a little "off" in the Freud only kind of way.

Vinegar Hill really dove into it's characters like no book I've ever read. Every few paragraphs you'd get deep into someone's thoughts and then they'd interact with the rest of the characters before jumping into the next character's memories and rituals. Where was James to sit? Why was Salome never married? Would Ellen have enough guts to walk away? Would Amy ever be happy again? Where are the two babies?

As the holidays approach, we have lots of family interaction... and when you think about it, some of it is sweet... some of it is sour... some of it stinks... and some of it smells of cake. And though it hurts, I guess I wouldn't trade it. I wouldn't trade it for less than what I want so I guess I'll take it. I still feel like hiding from it and hope for better years in the future but I think this year I might look around at my own family's faces and wonder a bit more about what they're thinking. They've all had hurts and disappointments and joys which make them who they are just as much as me. And it'll always be that way so I mine as well soak it in.