Also I posted a letter from my mother to my grandmother on the facebook page of my brother on his birthday the other day, and he's not responded, which feels hollow. That may be in the mix somewhere. But this solitary day of working at home, with intermittent kitten visits (and some nice texts convo about him) (which also feels threatened), has a loneliness to it down a new and deep, like, rivulet of chasm. Picture the bottomless-looking gaps in the Badlands that you may suddenly realize you are very close to having stepped into, when the sun comes up and you see that, in the pre-dawn, you and Suzanne have wandered past signs that warn you to stay on the paths, and peril was right there, while you just stood around gazing at the beauty.
It still helps me to process things with another person, and I suppose that's something about being single I'll never really get used to. I have some professional processing tomorrow, which is good. Probably ought to write to myself about it tonight, but I don't want to.
Gotta get outside now, cuz dark's coming sooner. Or as Yogi Berra said about this time of year, it's getting late early.
