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dispatches: November 2007
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28 NOVEMBER 2007
Sleeping soul: As usual, when life gets too emotional for me, I don't write about it. You'd think I would write more. But back when I kept my dreadful old diary, the really emotional times came up blank. I am about to fly to Pennsylvania to see my parents. My mother's illness has progressed so much that she has just entered a nursing home. She may never get to come home again. To see her so bereft, to know everyone who knows her also suffers to see her like this, is more than I can express. So I write a few words here, to explain the unexplainable. Meanwhile, the full Christmas onslaught is under way, with the stores vomiting the noise of pop divas screeching carols. I prefer the collection on my iPod. I've always loved this time of year, all the cultural trappings of a holiday that is more about family and joy to me than it is about religion. But there are no simple joys this year that are not tinged with sadness.
Wally uses the laundry to his advantage