Channeled My Older Sister and Put The Holidays Away As Soon As I Returned

I made it home safely without incident, and listened to Dr. Rose Brock's Hope Nation - essays of hope written by some of the best YA Authors in the nation. I read the book earlier this year, but listening to the essays had a bigger impact and made me think a lot about what hope means in our life and why so many choose to destroy the hope of others. Essay after essay shared stories of hopeless times and how individuals overcame them. I was particularly struck by Libba Bray's account of a post-high school car accident that almost took her life. As I listened, I kept thinking, "This is too much for my stomach and imagination," but then her delicate wit and insatiable drive for life kept me totally engrossed, especially as she described the reconstruction of a face and years of surgery. While driving, it made me take extra caution because one never knows.

One never knows.

Several of the essays account for individuals who tried to limit, damage, and knock down the dreams of the writers. These were teachers or bosses who viciously bit on the hopes of young people to destroy the vision they had for themselves in the future. These essays stuck out to me, too, because projection is Psychology 101 and people like to make others feel how they feel inside: bitter, angry, and hopeless people like to bring hatred, bite, and venom to others as a way to make themselves feel good. That's also bullying 101, too.

I have a few more hours of the audio version of the book and I'm looking forward to it, as the readers are making the text even more magical than the hard copy (so thankful that Brock's publisher gave me a copy while at NCTE).

And then I returned to CT. The first thing I did was unwrap Baby Jesus from my mother's ceramic nativity set that was given to me by my Aunt Bobbie when they moved from Kentucky to Vegas. I cherish this artwork, even though I'm on the lower scale of religiosity (but higher scale of hope and spirituality). Pam Kelly curses me each year when she sees Baby Jesus unwrapped before Christmas day. "He's supposed to be covered," so she covers him. Arriving home a few days away from Christmas, I took this photo after I unwrapped the messiah to share with her. I wrote, "I think he looks a little pale."

I also hung up Chitunga's new ornament on the tree, because it is my favorite gift of the year (even though it was given to him). I love that photo and the sentiment that it will show up every December simply makes me smile.

Then, after taking these photos, I went on a  clean-up spree and began putting everything away. I left the window lights up for tomorrow, but everything is packed and stored in the basement. I'm already thinking ahead to 2019 and getting read to put myself in a cocoon for a while. I'm also thinking that the furniture I bought last year is not designed right. As soon as I sat down to work and write, I got those sharp pains in my shoulders and back. Yes, I am blaming some of this on our new tech-crunched worldview, but I simply think the design of this furniture is no good. When I set out for new furniture my one priority was to have a reading/writing chair that would hug my like my old furniture did. I totally failed.

Okay, I don't like to complain, so I'll get over it (that is, if I can get these sharp pains to subside).

I am home again, a 3rd home to my CNY and Louisville homes. Funny, because lately I've been craving the Denmark-home which housed me many summers when I took students there. I think I'm getting anxious to travel again. It's been too long.