December 26, 2022
Home in gathering dark on Saint Stephan’s Day. Long, uneventful drives, except for about 100 miles each way fighting off drowsiness. Drive home lengthened by an hour by backed-up traffic on 26. Pyramids have been built in less time than it has taken to widen that road.
The growing family is well and happy. We don’t have the quarrels that TV sit-coms assign to American families, or if we do, I’m not part of them. Daniel and David are inseparable, and their wives are best friends. Daniel has bought a house three door from his brother. They are trying to make paradise, and so far are succeeding. Daniel gave me a sculpture of a road runner. Daniel called a color “gay,” and then drew me aside to apologize. Hope I established what a non-issue it was. The happy dogs Luna and Scarlet made everybody smile. Linda and I talked about mom and dad until sadness stopped us.
Christmas Eve service seemed somber, beautiful but remote, like a snow globe held at the end of the arm. Maybe it was, maybe it was my mood.
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