Christmas Eve with John and Arit; Christmas Day alone. Just a faint hangover from all the grappa we drank, which scorched the backs of our throats as it went down.
I steeled myself and made calls to my family today. My father is depressed and didn’t feel like talking. My brother was in hospital for a week and is still waiting to receive his disability benefits. My mother was trembling and confused, having taken suddenly ill.
With each one, I fought back a surge of feeling. When I quietly counseled my mother to see a doctor, she shrieked that she intended to die at home, exactly as she did two summers ago. This time I left her to her suffering, knowing that there is nothing I can do for any of them, even on this day.
Instead, I will listen to James Brown’s first single over and over again as I wait for the snow to come.