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hi
I am so very heavy with sadness. Every step feels like lifting weights. Spent all morning pulling up trees in the yard. Pulling is not the correct term. Slicing, hacking, digging. Some of them as thick as my own arm. My brother liked to cut trees down, then throw them on top of other plants, so the trees got stronger, bushier, and the plants that were planted purposefully got smothered, weaker. Tomorrow I am hoping I have enough energy to put in the trees we got from Arbor Day foundation. Little tiny twigs that may someday tower over us all.
To plant a garden is to hope for the future they say. I guess it's true. But there's always this threat over my head that I won't be able to stay here and chop chop, they'll meet the same fate as everything else I've ever cared for.
But I keep at it anyway.
Spent most of yesterday trying to clean the attic room. Found a box of old family photographs. My great-grandpa and great-uncles and my great-great grandpa and a few of my grandmother and grandfather. All maternal. There's not much left of my father's side of the family because when my uncle forced his mother into the nursing home, he got a dumpster and threw almost everything she owned in it. My disabled parents had to literally climb in the dumpster to get out anything they wanted, so that's that.
All the photos I found were just in an open cardboard box. A box for the Ewok Village from Star wars, actually. I put them all in a plastic tote, took out some for display, and tried to organize a box of my parents' things as well. I'm organizing all the family heirlooms that my brother tore out of their spaces and spread all over the house to get broken and destroyed.
And he's the responsible one, huh?
I don't know why I'm bothering. I'm not having kids. My youngest brother isn't having kids. My oldest two brothers don't give a shit and all their kids only care about what they can sell.
So I guess it doesn't matter that the movers sole the diamond rings that my great-grandfather made because eventually they would just get pawned anyway. Right.
It's all so pointless, but I keep doing it all. Like the feeling of banging my head against the stone wall. Like the loss of blood. Like the pain. Must be so.
Found a scrapbook my mom made of every single little note I brought home from school from day one until I graduated. All my academic achievements and good citizen notices. And I have to go through that now. I just did this in Roch. And again in Denver and threw away several garbage bags of things because I think I will have to keep being on the move year after year and I can't bring all this with me. And here it all is again. And I have to box the days up and put them away for safety when there is no such thing. I am so tired of having to make these decisions. For years now I've had to make these decisions and even more serious decisions and I can't do it right. I can't do it anymore.
I cut across the Iowa Steakhouse parking lot to get to the grocery store every few days. When I was a kid, there was a trail up the little grassy hill to the lot because everyone around here walked there daily for milk, bread, etc...Now they drive and there's no trail and I've never seen anyone but me walking that way since I've moved back.
9:55 PM - Monday, Nov. 16, 2020
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