my sorrow, my paradise

They don't have to make me sad, the holidays. Maybe they aren't what's making me sad at all. Maybe I just sat on my ass for a day and a half in either direction to go feast with my family and the fact that I have to wait three weeks to do it all over again bums me out.
Bums.
(Ha.)

I took Pilot to the doctor the other day. I said it was for his knee, to get him medicine so it wouldn't bother him so much when we go hiking. Pilot pointed out that it was also because his best friend died. He's an insightful little one.

We miss that friend.

We miss bright days and warm weather and all of our outdoor adventures. It's not the same in Southern California, where we visit every winter. That kind of paradise isn't my paradise. My paradise has spores and volcanoes and an abundance of pine.

My paradise goes into hibernation every year. Makes me long for it. Makes me ache.

I miss things, sometimes. Miss people.
It feels sad.
It feels good.

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_{All pictures and words copyright Anna Horvitz (me) and cannot be used without my consent.}