Weeding through all the December feels on this longest night.
It's the month of my late aunt's born day, who tragically took her own life many years ago.
It's the month of my late father's born day, who passed from a brain tumor the size of a softball that went undetected by many doctors for decades.
It's the month I have to start wearing a whole freakin' load of laundry to stay warm outdoors.
It's (yet another) month I can't visit, hug, and gather with some of my favorite humans.
It's the month I fear more than usual for my safety in my own home as the offspring and others are more apt to visit during the calendar prompted "celebratory" days as they marinate in their chosen stank bombs.
It's the month when I see and hear many folks who chastise others for believing in fictional deities and such turn around and do the same damn thing to their kids with that santa dude (and later, the easter bunny, and the tooth fairy, etc.) - who watches you while you sleep - and who will punish you for not being "good" by not giving you a gift, and such - ummm...okay.
It's (yet another) month with calendar prompted days that kicks consumerism into higher than usual gear, where little to no thought is given to the path things have to take to make it to the plate, etc., continually declaring many wishes for "peace on earth" while joyfully paying for others to slit many species' throats to feast upon. Ouch.
But, at least it's almost over. Only 88 more days until spring when I can spend more time in the garden and less time in my brain.