The Feast of Holy Innocents

My heart is also heavy because today is the Feast of the Holy Innocents, the day Christians remember the babies King Herod killed in order to get rid of the new "King of the Jews" that had been prophesied. This very day would have been my parent's 50th wedding anniversary. My mother's absence is still breathtaking and acute.

I had also, once long ago, last summer, anticipated my own nuptials on this very day so there's that added sense of loss. I had wanted a Christmas wedding like hers. And I wanted to build a life with a man I felt so lucky to find despite my illness, whom I loved and who very nearly proposed one Saturday at lunch last July at Cafe Milano. But he did not love me enough and was not steady. I'm not yet at the point where I find that a relief. I feel want and defeated.

Surely, the rash I have on my arm, chest and face is not helping my sadness. It stings and throbs and has flattened me. The dermatologist this morning gave me something that seems finally to have helped the flare and red flaming pain. No known cause. She suggested a patch test once my skin calms down. Could be cause or exacerbated by stress. Funny@!

Sometimes I wished I lived in Wonderland.
"There is no use trying," said Alice; "one can't believe impossible things."
"I dare say you haven't had much practice," said the Queen. "When I was your age, I always did it for half an hour a day. Why, sometimes I've believed as many as six impossible things before breakfast." - Lewis Carroll
Okay, I'm going to go off and try and believe in impossible things for at least 30 minutes.

Snow-Flakes by Longfellow

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