Three Days

Three days was the morningMy focus three days oldMy head, it landedTo the sounds of cricket bows

I really couldn't have hoped for a better Christmas holiday, with both girls and I celebrating multiple times. We went to the Central Cinema twice--once for the Muppet Christmas Carol which, bluntly put, is sacrilege to the memory of all I hold holy around the bourgeois Dickens story. I own the Reginald Owen, Alistar Sims, George C. Scott, a couple of cartoon versions, but not the Mr. Magoo version (it must exist, right?). All have one Marley. None have Rizzo the Rat accompanying a Gonzo as Dickens to provide exposition. Call me a purist. I own a very old copy of the story itself--not quite a novel in length-that I bought when my mother was dying in hospital back in 2008. I have never gotten through the first stave, praise the lord of ADHD. 

Anyhow, Christmas has been an utter delight. We dutifully watched Charlie Brown's Christmas, played board games together--a first since Jenny died. I even agreed to play Scrabble. Leiney slaughtered me at that, and the girls took turns killing me at Clue, Charlie Brown Christmas board game (found at a used record store in Amherst. Amazing. It was truly the best Christmas in years.

I feel blessed that the girls are so lovely, and wish this feeling of Christmas which comes only when I see them and then lasts through the season--is eternal. Can't we at least have that promise? 


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