12/26/2025
Christmas?
‘25 is the furthest I’ve ever felt from it.
My 49th. My 12th as an orphan
and the most alone of any.
I’m in Naples, 1000mi from any
sense of Home I still have.
Alone but blessed with a full house
Kate and Pine and Swann,
Raziel and Mr Buff and Mason.
My latest foster, an older gentleman who’s
so mellow he’s lethargic - Scrappy.
Seemingly had a seizure on the 24th
at midnight. I thought he’d die in my arms
laying on the floor with him late into the Eve.
Exhausted, I Uber with him to work for
my 10hr day. He stays to night.
Christmas is hot; mopping, scrubbing,
carrying. Sweaty menopause labor.
But doing what I love.
SWFL is 80 with a sorta pleasant
warm breeze, stronger than typical.
But this is my 8th month - What do
I know about typical Florida?
I have a stack of shipments from Lori.
My 4th Christmas away. Alone.
But so much more isolated, stuck,
lonely here.
Barely the energy left now. 715
But I know opening each will
bring Joy. Smiling. Crying.
In the best way. But a bittersweet
way that I’ve ever made the choices,
risks, dreams which
abandoned me here.
I hope one day, one year, one
moment all my effort and
strife has made the world a
lumen brighter. Lighter. Or
at least for some.