Wring Out The Old

Have we done this photo? I can’t remember. This must be Long Sault circa 1970. Perfect.
A word of caution: what I’m about to write is for all the suckers about to tread down this road. As I’ve said before I’d like them to feel comfort when they begin to play those games they can only play by themselves. So no pity here for me; that’s not the point.
I came home from a run on the last day of the year to find my free copy of Criminal Investigative Failures sitting on my doorstep, direct from the publisher.  I suppose I should feel what… proud? A sense of accomplishment?  Completed?  I feel nothing.  I wrote that chapter almost two years ago; it’s so far behind me now, I can barely relate to it.
This has been a sad and strangely (for me) hollow Christmas season. It has not helped that I’ve been sick with a cold for most of the holiday and – apart from 2 hours Xmas morning with the kids – largely slept through 24 hours of Christmas.  So no holiday dinner with family… no family.  Yes, I’m in a relationship, but even that, which I was looking forward to this season has been oddly fractured. 
I just feel out of it.  I feel the weight of 100 Christmas’ past pressing down on me. I couldn’t make my regular week-long trip to Canada to enjoy libations, Catholic mass, family and endless hockey games; but even that came with a sense of relief, as though a dreaded something terrible would unfold and taint all past good times. 
I can’t wait for 12:01 to arrive. 
It’s has not been a bad year. I’ve kept relatively even. No scandals, no major missteps. I’ve remained involved with the world. 
But it hasn’t been terrific either. I’m in the final stages of divorce. I feel tremendous guilt for what I’ve done to my children. I can’t shake it. I’ve dreaded posting to this blog, not because I don’t enjoy it, but for fear I might say something I can’t take back.
Little things help. The run today felt good. I treated myself to a new IiPod Shuffle (yes, that’s my third… I’m hoping hot-pink will be the color that I can’t possibly lose).  I heard that really good cover by Smashing Pumpkins of Landslide (an old Buckingham / Nicks song… Theresa would understand).  I bought the kids a Wii: Mariocart maybe the greatest therapy of my life.
But let’s not kid ourselves. Though I admire people who say, “I’ve left that in the past, I’m moving on” we know we’re not the sorts that can enable that very easily. And if the wind blows a certain way, if the clouds are just that shade of grey, if it’s been too sunny for too long, or if the snow refuses to drift… then we’re off.

A Happier New Year

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