to suffer. By saying that I realize I have just driven off 87.7% of my friends.
Need I list December’s shortcomings? Hours of daylight, disposable dollars and time enough with the ones you miss are all in such glaringly short supply. No one wants to be reminded.
This time of year I suffer. Ghastly. The perfect malatov cocktail of joy and grief. Ghastly only comes in two flavors. So good it’s bad. So bad it’s good.
Proximity has no bearing on intensity in my life. You/it/whatever may be long ago and/or faraway and I can miss you/it/whatever with all my heart.
Could a happy sandwich be the antidote?
Happy Solstice!
The Lunch Encounter 