Happy Halloween eve eve eve... or something like that.
Is it just me or has this been the longest shortest month in the history of long short months?
It feels like it was just August and now we're in the final week of October. It also feels like October has been here for three months.
I know I have time concept problems but this is a bit much.
Time for me is odd. I know exactly what time it is at any given moment, roughly, give or take ten minutes. I don't know why I know. I just know. I've always just known. But I have no concept of days passing. Like, for instance, I can do something on a day, and then two weeks have passed and I think I did that just the day before. Like, no, that was yesterday. No that was Sunday. Yeah, three weeks ago.
I can't explain it.
It's why I forget to blog.
It's why I forget to do so many things. Return that email, or that text, or that phone call, which I'd rather be shot before I call someone back... but you get the drift.
I have intentions. My intentions are good. I just forget what fucking day those intentions were made on and think it was the day before.
I'd like to say it's procrastination, because if it is, I'm a master of procrastination. It's not. I know when I deliberately put things off. I know when things are due. I just can't be assed to do those things in a sane timeline. Deliberate procrastination is completely different.
So, anyway, it's now the end of Spooky Season, and we barely put up any decorations. Honestly, there are many houses without anything outside this year. I think everyone is like me. It doesn't feel like Halloween. It's been hot. It doesn't feel like fall. The world has gone to shit. I'm not paying 25 bucks for a small bag of candy. I can't open the door for the kids because the idiot dogs are idiots.
SIGHS!
My entire TikTok timeline last night was Christmas. But somehow Yule took over and that's what I'd like to do now. I don't have small children. I've never much cared for the concept of Christmas and Santa, I participated in that because we live in the bible belt and I didn't want my kids to feel left out. As I've gotten older I find myself viewing this part of the year more through the pagan gaze. Don't get me wrong, I'm not into any kind of organized religion not even Wicca. But, I feel the strong need to make simmer pots and a besom.
Did I ever tell you about my Great-Grandmother Mayola? No? She died when I was 7 or 8 but I remember her well. She lived in a little salt box house in Altha, Florida. They had tons of land and kept two chicken coops. One for the fancy chickens with feather bloomers, that's what she called them, her bloomer chickens. They laid little blue eggs. There was a half circle drive and the house was hidden from view of the highway by a line of date palms. Those trees smelled like the devil when the dates rotted. Anyway, her house was surrounded by an ornate metal fence and inside that fence, her yard, all the way around, was nothing but flowers. Just flowers, no grass, no beds for the flowers. Just flowers. She had two concrete flamingos by her front steps. Inside she kept tiny little brooms made from stick bundles beside her doors. I remember being fascinated by those little brooms. I remember people having fits when I decided I needed to ride one of them...
Sometimes, I look back on my childhood and think it might have been a fever dream. I remember my Great-Grandfather, he died when I was 3. My first real memories that I can attach a time to was his funeral. He was buried in the front yard. Mayola joined him four years later. Then my great-aunt Eula, then my mother, Marion, then my grandmother Eola. I had no other grandfathers. Well, I did, but considering I never met him, and that Eola delighted in telling me how he'd molested her daughters, I'm happy for never knowing him.
I grew up in a world of women, most of them batshit crazy, my grandmother and great-aunt owned corporate farms that they ran by themselves. But I go back to my great-grandmother and her little salt box house in the middle of a hundred acres of crops and her yard of flowers and her besom brooms and wonder...
I think that's where I am in life. I'm trying to make sense of my childhood while moving into the final half of my life and how simple everything should be, but isn't. How I still live by what I learned then, good and bad, mostly bad. How I wish I hadn't had to protect my own children from the bad, because the bad was so very bad. I regret that my youngest never knew a single grandparent, not really.
Double Sighs. I don't know where I meant to go with this... I'm just kinda feeling down. October does that to me now. My relationship with my mother was not good. It was abusive. She was raped by her father for most of her childhood and never had help in dealing with that. I understand why my mother was the way she was, but I can't forgive her for taking it out on us. And now, nine years after her death and that there was never any kind of closure...
Anyway... I guess that's the update for the end of Spooky month. It's now SAD month and it's kinda hard to move past it. I think I'll find Practical Magic and put it on to watch tonight. I'm feeling like I should openly say, I think my great-grandmother was a witch of some sort and embrace that. I'm not a garden witch, not with my black thumbs, but I still remember her recipes. Even though she died nearly fifty years ago. So maybe that's what I am. The only great grand child who knew her, or remembers her. Maybe that's what I've needed to say all along. It's also why I didn't bury my mother in front of her house on Halloween.
Anyway, whatever, y'all... and we whatevered.
If I get my ADHD under control, I'll talk to you on the first. I don't know what my plans are for the future, but I know if I stay like this I'll be homeless by Christmas. Er... Yule.
Peace,
Mercy
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