Last Sunday morning when I woke up, I had a message from my sister telling me that Anne Rice had died. I loved not just her books, but her. We had just been talking about her a few weeks ago, as at the time I was listening to the audiobook version of one of my old favorites, The Witching Hour. She was the first writer I truly loved. I haven't kept up with her more recent books, but I first read Interview With the Vampire in the mid '80s when I was 18 and was immediately smitten with the dark, conflicted, fringe-dwelling characters and the gorgeous detailed scenes she painted in my mind. The rest of The Vampire Chronicles followed, then the Mayfair Witches; I devoured them all. Many years ago I actually emailed her, something of a fan letter I suppose, but also asking some personal questions about her life, and she sent me back the loveliest note. I was so surprised to get a response at all, but one came the very next day, and it was such an open, kind one at that. As her son said last Saturday, I hope she is now finding answers to some of her cosmic questions.
The holidays are ticking right along. I can hardly believe Christmas is just a week away. We had a nice Thanksgiving brunch with my husband's sister and her girls, then a simple, light dinner in the small hall that evening, just the three of us. The next day we traveled to Walla Walla to see my family. My mom had emergency surgery the day before Thanksgiving, so things didn't quite go as expected, but we were anxious and glad to see her, as well as my dad who is still recuperating from his broken hip. We were all able to help celebrate their 70th (!) anniversary while we were there.
Last weekend we drove up to Detroit to look for snow. There wasn't a lot, but we found a good dusting starting just before Detroit Lake and then past the town and on toward Idanha. It's still startling to drive through acres of burnt trees, or barren stretches where they have been logged off, but there will always be magic to be found along that blue-green ribbon of river we love so much.
The holiday blues I used to get have crept back in a bit lately. There have been some personal and family challenges and changes this year, but overall it has been a very good year and I have absolutely nothing to complain about. My heart goes out to those who struggle with their (or someone else's) mental health, to those who struggle to make ends meet or give their family the Christmas they'd like (or any Christmas at all), to those who feel alone, forgotten, unworthy, invisible. If that's you, know that you are not alone. I am sending you all the love. ♥︎
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slow notes:
- When I need a pick-me-up, sometimes I let myself fall down a YouTube rabbit hole of old Hollywood dance mashup videos, like this one.
- From The Velveteen Rabbit: He said, "You become. It takes a long time. That's why it doesn't happen often to people who break easily, or have sharp edges, or who have to be carefully kept. Generally, by the time you are Real, most of your hair has been loved off, and your eyes drop out and you get loose in the joints and very shabby. But these things don't matter at all, because once you are Real you can't be ugly, except to people who don't understand."
- From Sting: Moon Over Bourbon Street, inspired by Anne Rice's Interview With the Vampire.
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I sent a few packages off at the post office Monday, picked up a few more stocking stuffers midweek, and have just a couple of things left to wrap for my local people this weekend. It's time to relax and just enjoy the season. Today that means an extra long walk and getting started on a new book from a friend. It's the last full moon of the year tonight, the Cold Moon or Long Night Moon (highest and longest in the sky of the year), and I'm hoping to spend some time beneath her glow. Next week is solstice and we'll begin the slow journey back to light. Until then ~
A blurry photo of the near-full moon a couple of nights ago.