Sunday, December 28, 2008


I realized tonight that I hate being alone. Especially on Sundays.

Scott usually works on Sundays. I should be running errands, doing laundry, cleaning the house ... but I just want a day to relax and do nothing, especially before going back to work the next day. Today, it was all I could do to get in the shower and get dressed, much less get any kind of work done.

I think it's in part because we had such a nice, relaxed day together yesterday. Finally. We sat on the couch, cuddled with one of the dogs, watched movies, and just enjoyed being with each other. We made dinner together. We had, by its very definition, a "Matterday".

And, while looking through some old records, he found something I had taken back from my Dad's house after his funeral three years ago. It was worn, tattered, in danger of completely dissolving, so he scanned it and printed it out on sturdy photo paper, and gave it to me:

This is a calendar page from December, 1968, that had been hanging on the side of the refrigerator in my parents' house since then. Notes in my Mom's handwriting mark appointments and events such as "Matt really started to walk instead of crawl" on the 14th.

I started to cry, and Scott put it up on the side of our refrigerator, where it will stay.

I've been pretty melancholy lately, the holidays do that to me, especially because there's never any time or money to make the Norman Rockwell holiday that we're supposed to have. There's too much stress and worry of whether I'll have my job for much longer. The bad weather the last week didn't help - two of the gifts I bought for Scott online still haven't been delivered. And I talked to my brothers on Christmas for the first time in probably a year, and realized how much I miss them.

So having a day with Scott, to just be, to cuddle, made me feel better. I want more. I wanted that again today. I've been watching outside for his car since 5:00, but he called at 7 to say he wouldn't be home until after 8 ... so, I sit. And wait. And want so many things to come back. My Mom and Dad. My family. My childhood. December 1968.

I want Scott to come back home from work. I want another Matterday.


Sizzle said...

What a sweet gift that was. I'm sorry you are feeling blue. I've been feeling that way too this past week. The weather and the holiday and all that stuff... it's heavy.

Hugs to you.

Palm Springs Savant said...

I can understand how you feel. A few thoughts on this: 1) Cherish the memories you have 2) "Talk" to your parents (Some people call it prayer) I "talk" to my dad all the time, he's been dead for over 25 years. 3) Try to visualize happiness, whatever it means to you, but translate it to a color or object and conjure it up anytime you need it.
and finally, its ok to be a little melancholy. I think it helps me stop and live in the moment when I need it most. Hang in there pal.


A Lewis said...

Wow...what an amazing gift! I love that sort of thing. And to see your very own name on it....really really awesome! it's funny how we tie our emotions, our feelings, our perceptions to people, days of the week, times, holidays, food, and all of that.

madhouse 6 said...

what a perfect gift. i started to tear up reading that.
you deserve another matterday. pronto

jo said...



I am so happy that you two have each are very blessed!