Women who carry a little extra weight live longer than the men who mention it.
Saturday, December 26, 2009
TIS THE SEASON
All year I cement over the cracks in my heart where it breaks. It's never whole, there's always another broken piece that needs putting back. I almost make it but along comes Christmas, the great solvent, and it disintegrates with such swiftness that the flow of sorrow overwhelms the mind. I weep and mend by leaving Christmas outside the door but this year the door wouldn't stay closed and not one person mentioned his name. Time does not heal all wounds.