These stay up year 'round.
It is as if the Old Testament's cruel messages of rain and plague are going to hang about until tomorrow, when hopefully we shall be enjoying the sunny fruits of Christ's appearance on earth, a time when outdoor weddings were held and water turned to wine and vast numbers of people showed up to listen to some talkin' on a lovely day and shared a few loaves and fishes.
And you didn't need a damn ark.
All night it blew and thundered and gusted and rained and all three of us here- the man, the cat, and I, got up at different times to wander about the house. We were all uneasy and it was so warm and then the power went off and it felt like the aftermath of a hurricane, truly. And still, it rains today. I have no idea how much rain we've gotten in the past week but it's a record-breaker, I'm sure.
It has, in fact, been raining ever since Kathleen died which was one week ago.
I can't believe a week has passed since I kissed her good-bye. My heart is still so full of her.
The power was still out at 7:30 when I woke up from a horrible dream and I got up and put my beloved percolator on the gas stove to make cowboy coffee. A gift from my Lis from long ago and I do love it. It takes about half an hour, I swear, to make a pot but it's worth it. I called Jason because he was supposed to be bringing the boys out but it all ended up with Boppy going in to stay with them for awhile because he had to go to town anyway.
It would appear they are having fun.
How odd. As I wrote a friend this morning, I have not had a Christmas in memory which was less filled with despair than this one except for the one when we went to Cozumel. And then I wondered if perhaps Kathleen has somehow caused this almost-peace.
Not in some woo-woo way, but as a reminder of how short life can be, how precious while we have it.
I don't know.
I know she surely did love Christmas.
Well, the power just went out again. Let me get this online before the battery back-up for the router goes out.
I wish you peace.
I send you love.