December 25, 2015

Mad drive home in constant rain. Like driving underwater. Not one stop, barreling northward. But a successful holiday with family, all good, all bright. My sister has a houseful every year, and I manage to keep up a little with their lives seeing them once a year, or once every couple of years. All the young ones are boys. This makes for a kind of peace. My Christmas was oddly serene this year, even holy, the strangeness of hotel life encouraging me to focus on matters of the spirit. My window faced east, where I watched the sun rise. I felt Christmas-y.