Madness in my method

It is cold outside. The wind is howling through the windows. I am glad, especially today, that I am not homeless. I think about my son Zack, who is, by choice, homeless. Is he safe today? Is he warm? Has he eaten? Where is he, who is he with? The questions are endless. My worries are everlasting.

It may seem strange, but I distract myself. I have found distractions in writing this blog. I have found solitude in looking at the world from behind the lens of a camera. I have had to keep busy, to keep from going mad.

Christmas plans are being made. I am just a pawn in the Christmas game. I will go with it. I will show up, I will bring a gift, that I chose with care, and I will smile. To those who know me, I will appear festive. I will, however, be vacant. My family is shattered. My children are scattered, and I can not know that they are safe, or more importantly, that they are content.

My life seems less shocking, painful, and lonely, when I share it, it this forum. I compare it to the wind, channeling through the cracks in the window panes. Perhaps I am morose, but it is my truth. There is madness in my method, and a method to my madness. As my Mother used to say.