Sunday

Yesterday was the most depressing of Sundays.
For some reason I’d been looking forward to Sunday all weekend. Sleeping late. The lazy, easy afternoon. Sunday night in front of the television. Stringing popcorn for the little Christmas tree. But then it came and it was just disappointing and awful.

All day nothing felt right. Everyone was strange. People didn’t fit together. Janine and I wandered the aisles of the grocery store listless and sad, unable to decide on anything. The weather was snowy and rainy and slushy and difficult.

Saddam Hussein was captured, but he turned out to just be a scared old man in a hole. Everyone on the news pretended to feel triumphant, but I’m sure some of them were disappointed. His scraggily grey beard and frightened eyes, you couldn’t help feeling sorry for him.

He must be the loneliest. Sunday of all days I understood him. Mass murder, genocide. A monster, so mean, and so bad he dug himself in deeper and deeper and then he got caught. Cornered there alone in his hole, there was nothing. Nothing left to him. He burned it all away hating and now no one loves him. The loneliest.