Epistle: Forgotten Holidays and Silent Victories (January 5-7, 2026)
Happy New Year. I have survived the "Homeless Holiday Season," a period where time feels both stagnant and relentless. Christmas arrived and departed without much flair or celebration, marked only by a "Goodie Bag" I received from the food pantry.
Inside the bag, I found a large bottle of antacid and toothpaste for sensitive teeth—small necessities that felt like a divine nod to my struggles. I do not know if they knew these things would be helpful to me specifically, but the coincidence felt like a gift of hope from the universe.
On New Year's Day, I sought the sanctuary of nature at Back Bay in Sandbridge. In the marsh, I watched three Mute Swans waltz on the surface of the water. Their elegance and grace are a stark contrast to the cold grind of survival, a reminder that beauty persists even when it isn't seen.
My writing remains my primary anchor and purpose. I've been immersed in The Savannah Story: Part One (TSS1), which has now reached 2,078 words. In the publishing world, this could represent a solid foundational chapter. While I have yet to monetize these efforts, and the specter of privation remains a constant cloud hanging over my head, I haven't given up. I am only six months in, and the slight chance of escaping exile and death feels worth the effort.
To that end, you may have noticed I have archived my 2025 writings on this site. While the site's current lack of SEO friendliness is a deliberate choice for this stage of the journey, I look forward to the day when "being found" is the goal.
My mind also keeps drifting back to Vantacashmere; I find myself increasingly curious about Charlotte's fate and the lives of Sheriff Vidoc and Deputy Child. I'm thinking their story, and that world, may have more to reveal.
I hope your coming year is defined by excitement, joy, and the quiet fulfillment of your own dreams.