what really matters

it's a rainy day, christmas season.  my soul is plagued by a recurrent emptiness.  there's absolutely NOTHING on tv, i've checked books and dvd's out from the library…but feel guilty watching a movie.  the kitchen is overrun by ants, the husband's in New Orleans, i'm supposed to be doing christmas-y stuff…but i just don't feel like it.

after all this time, it occurs to me that i'm truly concerned with the question of my brother.  my parents are old, i'm supposedly terminal and not working, and he's mentally ill and unable to control his illogical impulses.  i feel like there should be something more, but then it seems, like my own condition, that there isn't anything else to help him.
then there's this whole holiday thing.  i don't feel like celebrating.  not in the typical way.  i want to celebrate winter—water for the land, the novelty and beauty of snow, the change of season…and yes, the spiritual element.  But even that – i'd rather celebrate in a private way.  i feel like snowshoeing and communing with nature in Yosemite and saying Thanks for another year would be more truthful and heartfelt than the usual.
Maybe i'm just unprepared.  maybe i just needed to vent.  maybe i just need to drink tea and listen to Harry Potter books and continue thinking about the year ahead.  maybe i need to sort out my priorities, write out a will, really make each day count.  If I did that, i could actually collect social security and help my brother more than i am now.  i could clear stuff out…

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