My trip home went well. I got to see family there. I didn't find my Christmas spirit there, though. Or anywhere for that matter. If Christmas came and went, I don't know that I'd care, this year. That's a big deal, considering I am the type who is all about Christmas. This year, I don't feel like baking cookies. I don't feel like giving. I don't feel like sharing. I don't feel like bringing joy and goodness. I just feel like moving on. I don't feel hateful towards Christmas or like a Grinch. If others want it, that's fine. I just want it to be spring already and for this chapter to close already...
Last night I had a dream that my uncle, cousins, siblings, and kids were all at grandpa's old house and as we passed the basement widow we all saw him there. He was as real as could be touched, but he wasn't flesh like us. He was trying to open a box of cereal or something but in his eyes was a sense of emptiness. At some point we each made our way into the house and the others managed to talk to him as though he'd never gone. I couldn't. I was too frightened and confused. When I was finally ready to, I woke up.
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