Depressing Like the Day After Christmas

Toddler Close-up

My muse is gone.  The little two year-old snot-nosed bundle of bounce left yesterday with his mother to fly home.  My house has not felt this empty and lonesome since the last time they came for a visit (and left, subsequently).

I don’t have the strength to write a real post today.  I’m too sad about my hollow house.  When I got home from dropping my sister and her baby off at the airport, I went down to “their room” in our basement, and literally wept.  (Dramatic, much?)  I know it’s so cheesy, but she’s my only sister.  She’s one of ten—maybe even five—people in the world who truly know me and accept me as I am.  So cut me some slack for mourning the time I won’t get to spend with her until Christmas (and it’s only maybe Christmas, at that).

I feel weary.

Luckily for you, before my favourite sister and nephew departed, I mustered up the energy to write a guest post for my friend Rachel over at Dreaming of the Country.  Rachel is British, and as you know, I love the British.  I used to think I could even become English if I tried hard enough. Obviously, that didn’t happen, but you’re welcome to swing by Dreaming of the Country to see what happened when I finally visited the glorious Motherland for the first time.  (Here’s a hint: Awful photography is involved {and included.})

The post is here.

Do me a favour, if you will: Comment on Rachel’s blog, so I don’t feel like a lame guest poster (even though I actually am).  It would help lift my spirits today.

About Camille

I'm Camille. I have a butt-chin. I live in Canada. I was born in Arizona. I like Diet Dr. Pepper. Hello. You can find me on Twitter @archiveslives, Facebook at facebook.com/archivesofourlives, instagram at ArchivesLives, and elsewhere.
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13 Responses to Depressing Like the Day After Christmas

  1. Whitney says:

    OH honey. Im sorry. Go ahead and let those tears out.

  2. Holly Decker says:

    done and done.
    if its any comfort, which its not…
    I LOVE YOU! :)

  3. anna says:

    I’d cry too. Did you know I cried when my sister moved four miles away from me? I did, so you’re totally justified.

  4. mameelynn says:

    As someone that has only one sister as a sibling I know just how you feel. We haven’t been able to see each other for almost 3 years now and heaven knows how long it will be until we will be together again so go ahead and let it out…. I may just join you from down here!! As for wishing you were British you did get as close as you can be and still be in North America… I mean the Queen is on the Canadian money… My poor hubby said that you could pull a Madonna… She just decided that she was British and no one said that she couldn”t….. well except for the press…….

  5. Jeff says:

    Well I can think of an obvious solution to the ’empty house’ issue…

  6. Chloe says:

    Oooh Camille don’t be sad! Try to think about how happy you made your nephew while he was with you!!

  7. Anonymous says:

    If it makes you feel any better, I hated leaving, too. And Pres. woke up calling for you. “Mo? Mo? Mo?” he said. Then he put his hands out and with a questioning look said, “Mo? Ky-kee? Mo? Ky-kee?” He couldn’t be consoled. You are (both) missed.

  8. Kimberly says:

    Your not dramatic or lame for being sad. I cry every time I have to say goodbye to my sisters and it usually isn’t months before I see them again. It sucks, just plain and simple. I hope you feel better soon ;-)

    Kimberly

  9. Bert says:

    Oohh Camille don’t be sad. You will see them again soon. Just remember about all those happy memories that you shared with them. Even though it rained all the time. Just remember I am just across town. If you need to hang out with someone so you dont feel as lonely I am here.

    Brittany

  10. RatalieNose says:

    Sad sad day.
    I’m sorry Camille.
    Hmm let me guess the five people
    1. Your mom
    2. Your dad
    3. Your sister
    4. PK
    5. Lindsey? Chelsie?

  11. Jethro says:

    i’m going upstream on this one. get out of bed. get over it. leave the house. do something with the backyard. paint the fence. whatever.
    you should really practice the gardening thing, someday you can enscript your own loving children to weed and pick. we call it family labour.

  12. Pingback: Archives of Our Lives » Get Up.

  13. Katie says:

    I feel your pain. I hate it when my family leaves. I mope and moan for days.

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