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Wednesday, December 03, 2014


The creek behind the house is a torrent of brown, churning water.  The beach where Thistle and I played all summer is gone, subsumed.  I don't go down near the water right now.  Thistle has red rain boots and delights in the giant puddles.  We need the rain so badly.  Always when it rains after someone has died, it seems those are tears for the one who has gone.

I feel no anger towards my mother-in-law as I realize she was manipulated by many people around her when she did certain things, such as hiring a lawyer for my ex-husband so he wouldn't have to pay child support (which he never did).  It was some sort of misguidedness that caused a great deal of suffering for my kids, though she would never have wanted that to happen and it probably didn't occur to her.  Most of the things she heard about me were through the filter of my ex; I had almost no direct conact with her until she got very old and went to live with my in-laws.   I can't hold the past against someone who hadn't 100 percent knowledge of all the circumstances regarding my marriage and my kids.

Still, for good or ill, I became related to her by marriage and I had a good relationship with her when she was elderly, and was there as she was dying, though not on the actual day.

All of this has worn me out and I find myself heading home after dropping Thistle off and sleeping for hours until it is time to get her again.  That is not sustainable in the long run, as my writing is suffering greatly at this point, but for now, it is what I need.  I can't create with a tired mind.