Novem

October was a quiet time here: only two posts, compared to the bare minimum of four I had set out earlier this year. I simply had nothing worthwhile to write about, and life--outside life--happened. 

My body feels, and demands, that the final quarter is, and should be, a reason for rest, a wrapping up of the year's ambitions, a kind of slowing down. The past months were inundated with tasks and to-do lists, with travels and getaways squeezed in between. 

But November is here, reminding us that the year of our Lord 2025 is nearing its end. 

I will devote my time to recharging for the busy December season. With no intention to participate in more activities than I can handle, I have every intention to enjoy my books, write some stories, and see old friends. 

Where I come from, November means visits to the dead, not trick-or-treating. Halloween has recently become a fad in the cities, with children being made to dress up and demand candies. That all feels artificial to me. When I was a child, November was when I would go with uncles and aunties to the cemetery, hopping over graves--fearing that an arm would shoot up from the ground and grab my feet--and endless happy greetings with people I was required to "bless." Those were happy days!

When I drive to hospital to this morning, I expect heavy traffic near the cemeteries. Proximity permits remembrance. Soon I will write stories about my loved ones; creating stories allows me to have conversations with them. They come alive once more. 

We will visit our dead later today, or tomorrow, in Marbel and Banga, though the usual practice has been to do the pilgrimage one day earlier, when the traffic is more tolerable.