Two tributes
each to my past
both to my future.
The first is a remembrance of what still lies in my room
A token of childhood
a pile of anthropomorphic animals in outfits
with houses and furniture and food items.
The second is a memorial
to a character from a book
the second half of her name
before she was lost forever
not even among where her ancestors roamed.
They are connected
one,
my past,
the other,
her future,
both potential and absolute
neither undeniable
both
connected
to me.
My favorite type of writing
is when I'm in the zone
I'm typing
no hesitations
just plugging in all of my honest thoughts and opinions into my somewhat-anonymous profile
spinning deeper and deeper into my spirals
In my mind
"Thanksgiving" has warped definition
twisted and mushed and changed by lots of different people
it used to be a holiday of celebration;
now it's harsh and revealed and true
it's cruel and violent
It's cold out
it's snowing
falling slowly
steadily
reassuringly
it brings a sense of calm
the world has begun the process of renewing;
once the snow melts
it will be spring
life will return
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