The Christmas tree is decorated with red bows and white turtle-doves and red and white striped candy-canes and all the special ornaments we’ve collected over the almost twenty years of our marriage. I even started wrapping some presents.
Okay, it was because I had organized them into piles on the guest-room bed and, guess what? Guests were coming and needed a place to lay their weary heads. I could either shove all the gifts willy-nilly into bags or I could wrap. I chose, this time, to wrap.
I’ve posted the fourth page of Unlikely Objects, and I do hope you are enjoying the story. I’ve had fun revisiting these characters, this story. Reading old stories is like reading old diaries . . . painful and nostalgic and a little bit eerie. It’s like reading a letter from your former self to your present self.
Are there certain triggers that bring you back to earlier times? Is this why we get all crazed for Christmas? Drop me a line when you get a few minutes respite from all your (local) holiday shopping, your wrapping and trimming and Christmas card signing, your singing and baking and popcorn stringing . . . Outside the Box.