"May You Be Held"

Sumac, "May You Be Held"

Maybe heavy experimental music doesn't scream Christmas.  Maybe it does.  But I walked at least 100 miles to this over the past year and saw many deer and raptors and wore out at least two perfectly good pairs of shoes.

I braved Costo so tomorrow for Christmas lunch me and my Dad are having some smoked ham, stuffing, gravy, and salad.  My sister turned us both on to the ginormous apple pies they have too.  My Dad has sheepishly been asking me if he can have a piece for breakfast, as if I'd ever say no to pie before lunch for me or anybody else.  What am I, Hitler?

One year ago I was finishing my final teaching contract in South Korea, in lurvely Daegu, and preparing to move back here to America and sleepy Bellingham.  I had no idea what this year held in store for me, what with moving in with my Dad as his full-time caretaker.  I've been getting up at 6 a.m. every morning for almost a year now (which if you knew me in real life would probably shock you more than anything), reading a hell of a lot, writing short stories, and working part-time at the local Humane Society.

Living in the woods north of Bellingham is my life now -- for now -- for the foreseeable future.  None of this was particularly easy, but I hope the worst fights and arguments are over.  Nobody wants to get old, and nobody wants to admit they've grown old, and nobody ever gets too old to realize that they've become old.

That's all crystal clear, I'm sure.

I've got Christmas day off to enjoy the holiday with my Dad, and I'm filling in next week for my co-worker.

I'm not sure where any of this is headed, but I'm trying to make the most of it.  I hope you and your family and your friends find yourself in a good place in 2022, and if that's too much to ask well, May You Be Held.