A different December

Though I generally don't believe in other people's mysterious ailments, I do believe in my own, which happily now has a name, seasonal affective disorder, but which has filled me with horror, despair and a feeling of infinite bleakness since I was a kid and they hadn't invented it yet. I've tried the lamps and mild anti-depressants but the shadows still start to get long in what should be the middle of the afternoon and I feel like retreating to a small corner of my room with a pillow over my head by about 6 pm.

Maybe this is why I came to fear and loathe the end-of-year so-called celebrations (Christmas, New Year, my birthday) and to feel anybody who could distract me from the misery was my hero. My first true love rescued me at this time of year, I walked three miles to a highway exit to have him pick me up and spirit me away from my home full of horror, despair, and the feeling of infinite bleakness.

This year I've been rescued in an entirely different way. My beloved son has, after all his travails, come back to live here for at least a while (I hope a long while). Bob Vasile and I have been fitting out the studio across the driveway for him and he's moved into it so at night I see the gentle light from his window - and he comes up here for meals and fun.

Also, a dear long-time friend - who's known me since Ezra was a baby - has also moved in as she adjusts to life without her long-time husband. I hope she'll stay a long time too. She has a sense of order which calms me and she sponges a counter equally as well as my perhaps-last-ever sweetheart Eric did. She has a robust enjoyment of the world and talking to her is like visiting a sunnier country. She's social and we've already had one party and soon will have another! We share books and desultory conversations over tea.

Even better, she and Ezra really enjoy each others' company and I love to listen to them chatting and cracking each other up at night over a shared beer.

I feel blessed to have them here.