As others ponder resolutions as the year grows short, I tumble backward thinking about places I meant to go but didn’t, goals not met, gains that somehow came to fruition, and losses that made me a want to bang my head on the wall.
I’m still in the cornfield, and as I keep returning to the cornfield, I’m pretty sure I’m hiding out because I strayed too far from home and still haven’t found my way back.
Writing whimsical books has taken up much of my time, and the strange thing is, sometimes people actually buy them although I don’t know why.
I gained a greater understanding of human nature, and learned I exist in a ‘basket of deplorables’, but I am in good company so I don’t mind being labeled a deplorable. It’s not like the one doing the name calling possessed any great wit or charm, but was basically a poor loser and it’s great fun to watch the liberals and Millennials act crazed and demented.
It was the losses that left me walking around in a daze. I have cried for dogs that died, crazy relatives that are beyond help, loved ones who passed on to that other place, friends I don’t know anymore but send me cards, rings that fell on the floor because my fingers shriveled up. clothes that don’t fit because I lost ten pounds. and Christmas presents I threw on the floor.
I guess I’m at that place where I’m too young to be old but too old to be young, and I have a crazy ear thing going on that makes my ears pop and I keep falling off the bed when I bend over to tie my shoes, at least I hope its a crazy ear thing and not something else.
Actually, all is well in the cornfield, but I do believe I suffer from periodic holiday depression. Other than that and the no clothes to wear thing, it was a pleasant year, and I haven’t fallen off the bed or sofa for days.