It’s four o’clock in the afternoon and twilight. By the time Christmas comes around it will be already pitch dark at this time. November and February are definitely the difficult months though; for spirits pick up for the holiday season. It’s just the before and after, which wears the soul down.
Everyone I know (practically) is down with a grippe. Strange, don’t remember all these winter flues hitting everyone simultaneously. I remember we all use to get one or two colds a year. Sometimes a winter cold, sometimes a summer cold, which oddly we thought was worse than a winter cold. Or maybe not.
Sara has her gym tournament tomorrow. Hammed, our neighbour, knocked on the door to ask when we (her loyal father and mother) were going over, so we could pick him up on the way over. Feeling Rather Guilty, I said neither Sara's father nor I had thought of going to the tournament. So, Plan B, I am going to pick him up at twelve and loyal husband, generously, says he’ll do the ironing.
Reminds me of the last year I danced in the Nutcracker at Les Grand Ballet Canadiens. My mother's friends kept on saying how wonderful I was and my mother had to admit that she hadn’t seen me that year: though to give her credit she had seen me all the previous years. There was a lot of tisk-tisking and so off she went with my grandmother to see me.
Every time I came on stage my grandmother would say very loudly, “There she is. Isn’t she wonderful?” After the initial ruffling of feathers of the nearby audience for talking out loud, My mother said most people got into the spirit of my grandmother’s enthusiasm and someone even pointed me out to her at a later point in time.