Posts

Posted on

Thank You Very Much

Most of you know the story of Ebenezer Scrooge — the miserly old man who hates Christmas, until he’s visited by the ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future and has an incredible change of heart. This Dickens story has been brought to the screen countless times, including the 1970 musical “Scrooge,” starring Albert Finney, which features this charming, upbeat song at the end of the tale.

Thank you very much, all my followers, visitors, friends and family who have visited this site this year. Thank you for your kind comments, likes and insight into the topics I’ve covered. Thank you for your own blog posts, which have inspired and moved me, made me laugh and at times made me cry.

I celebrate Christmas, and to those of you who share in the joy of this season, Merry Christmas. For those who celebrate other holidays, Happy Holidays to you, as well.

God bless us, everyone.

Posted on

Let It Snow!

I lived in Minnesota long enough to find snow annoying, dreary and burdensome. And I’ve lived in Arkansas long enough to appreciate the northern states’ prompt and thorough response to winter weather. To make my point clear, it’s a lot easier to get — and stay — snowed in when you’re living in southern states.

But I love winter weather. I’ve said it before, but on this day when my car doors were nearly frozen shut as I helped a neighbor get ready for Christmas, I am compelled to say it again. Some of you wondered back in November when I was griping about the endless warm weather if I’d truly be happy when the temperatures dropped. Tonight we’re hitting single digits.

I’m happy.

Wondering, as I am so emphatic, just what it is that makes this miserable weather so desireable.

I confess I’m halfway hoping I’m snowed or iced in tomorrow so I can justify staying home and knitting, reading and snuggling with the cats. I have plenty of cat food, Oreos and Diet Coke, as well as more nutritious food and a shelf full of books I’ve been dying to dig into, all while wrapped up in a cozy quilt.

This is a challenging time for me, and I’m a bit stressed about the next few weeks. For whatever reason, snow is a comfort to me today.

So let it snow.

Photo courtesy of Pixabay

Posted on

Any Good Book

When I was young, I would hurt sometimes so badly I would panic, then hide in my room, wrapped up tight in protective clothing, deep beneath the covers. I fled the pain I could not bear by burying myself in the stories told in multitudes of books.

Some stories so deeply resonated with me I read them over and over, and I realize now these tales provided a solution to the same loneliness and isolation I was feeling. It was fiction, of course, and I couldn’t follow the same path my erstwhile heroine would, so I lost myself in fantasy.

It was a lonely life, but a safe one.

Today I still like to lose myself in novels, but it isn’t the same. Life has taught me certain realities, and one of them is that rarely do events follow in a logical progression as they do in storytelling. Nor do problems resolve them in a straightforward manner.

Yet if the books don’t provide some sort of conclusion, I’m frustrated.  I still want to end with resolution. It doesn’t have to be a happy ending, but it should be a logical one. The story should be told.

I cannot flee my pain, but I can find respite from it in certain escapes, and I look for particular qualities in those methods of safety.

Read any good books lately?

Photo courtesy of Pixabay

Flee

Posted on

The Threads of You

I finished unpacking last night. My house is a home, but the one thing missing is you. I hear your laugh, see your smile, admire your new haircut in the faces of strangers. I can’t stop for a gallon of milk without recognizing your loping walk in another. The weight of my loss holds me in place, and I silently protest the need to make dinner, open the mail, prepare for bed.

The phone rings, and my heart leaps. It isn’t you, and I let the call go. I don’t have the strength for a  conversation. I can’t explain one more time why. I might have to scream I don’t know.

You were woven so tightly throughout my life, and the threads of you reach farther than I imagined. I’m trying to patch the holes, but the pain stops me short.

I know you’re not coming back. I know it’s better for you now. I want the good times back and all the love those moments carried.

I’m missing you.

Multicolored Thread On A Weaving Loom Taken Closeup.

Image Credit: © Bigstock

Missing