— this is really happening

blue truth

I have been talking up a wizbang of merriment about this holiday season. And it’s been true and I’m not alone; a great deal of emphasis is put on the occasion being a joyous and delightful one. Though for many, and for me to a certain extent, the holidays are a trigger, however faint—a kind of familiar, arrant reminder of what our childhood families were not, and never have been, and never will be. And strung to that sense is the warping supposition that we should best be spending a great deal of money during this time as well, which for many people is a very hard thing to do. Trippy merger. So yes, December can be a very contradictory and bewildering time as well.

I like the idea that when we return to the places our parents live, we enter the door with our newest posture, the posture of exactly today, the posture we’ve spent exactly all our days building up. Maybe they can see it, maybe they have been working to be able to really "see" us now, and in these next few days they will act as the mirrors they were not able to be when we were young. Probably not. That’s okay.

We are wise children, though. We have raced among the banchees, against odds and obstacles to arrive as we are when we enter their homes. We have grown. We have taken some of our unmastered parts by the lapel and said, "Com’ere you!" We have sacrificed some parts of ourselves for them and their psyches, and they too, have done this for us. I believe we heal our parents when we heal ourselves. I believe that’s part of the order of things. For in a certain sense, we are them.

Tread safely, strong, and solid on your journeys home, friends. And despite what you were once told, you are a good, good kid, and you always were.

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