New Year's Day and I hope for you a great one.
Mine, was not the beginning I envisioned. My adopted Mom, Marge
I rushed to the hospital at twelve.
She looks like me at 6 am after my binges. Red eyed and a little smile
of I don't care anymore on her 72 year old tired face.
I got back home, not drunk enough,
and found tiny, a sweet little black kitten who strived through thinness and
stumbled around for the 10 weeks of her life, cold and still.
She still lays there.
I guess her suffering has ended.
I am still drinking down the courage and liquor to go dig the hole in the backyard. I will cry, and need the strength I find in a bottle to prepare.

My adopted pops, 82 year old cad who took people all his life, took me into his heart. He is not a red man's father except by heart and caring. He is looking so old and tired. He took me to see Marge in the ICU. And consoled me as a priest would with wisened words of time and need.

If this New Year's day is a sign of what 2015 will be like,
after three more drinks, I think,
I will go out back and dig a  hole big enough for me to crawl into and hide, until next year.