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By jwb71913 Date: 2005 Dec 13 Comment on this Work [[2005.12.13.23.40.18396]] |
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I hate winter. The night comes too quickly and lasts too long, the commute becomes a chore rather than an adventure, and the drive up tellers at the bank are surly. My son antagonizes me with his whiskers. He's taken to growing a Hitler mustache every few days, and finds it quite amusing when I make him shave it off. I've lived with the hair, the earrings, the clothes, the nose rings and the attitude. I've lived with the threat of his moving back to his mother. I will not let him be seen in public with a Hitler mustache. He isn't going to get a Christmas present this year; I will send double Hanukah gifts to his cousins instead. The rude and surly rubs off on me, I can't help it. I haven't put up a single holiday decoration, no tree, no lights, no cards from the mailbox. I feel like a Scrooge with a major attitude. "Bah! Humbug!" The words of Dickens echo through my head, "Are there no workhouses, no prisons"? I am glad my son isn't in prison, although I make no promises. Despite all this; I sit alone late at night and revel in the wonder of the love in my life. The love of family, friends, and especially the love of you, free and clear without restriction or judgment. I am bathed in the light of your love. I do not and will not claim to be worthy. But I accept and return it as best I can. |