Post-christmas, post-christian Christmas post

Christmas has become a cathexis of pain for me, I thought, as I leaned my head on the window after a good cry in the grocery store parking lot. It’s a good word, a useful word, I felt at the time; it gives me a way to name what’s happening here, why it actually makes

Shelters

on divorce, grief, and finding peace in the elements* It surprises them, the nudity, but being naked is its own form of prayer.  We brought the coffee and the chocolate granola over the rocky outcropping down to the lake, wind lapping ripples against the granite shore. I sipped the sacramental first, perfectly hot and dark