This is the elephant my friend Lynn rode yesterday in Kathmandu. She writes that it’s strange to celebrate Christmas in a country that doesn’t. They’re eating salmon tomorrow and managed to get some wine. Maud, her four-year old granddaughter, is going to leave out some reindeer food tonight.
Ca y’est, as they say in France – that’s it, I’m into it now. Out today, everyone on the streets saying “Merry Christmas” and bustling about, all the lights – I can even bear the music, as long as it’s not “The Little Drummer Boy.” I went to a yoga class at the Y, marvelling – This is Christmas Eve and here I am, stretching in peace. In the change-room, ran into a Cabbagetown friend, a young woman with little kids, looking frantic. “My mother arrives in an hour,” she said, “and from then on till late December 27th, I’m on. I’ll be back here on the 28th to recuperate.”
“Hang in there,” I said. “When you’re 62, all will be calm and bright.”
Anna and Eli are at his other grandma’s and will arrive later to spend the night here, and Sam is still asleep – at 1 p.m.. There’s a little snow on the ground. My oldest friend Ron – from the Fifties in Halifax – is coming to visit this afternoon, as he always does. Even though there’s no tree and no turkey, it still feels right. All that matters is family. I spoke to my mother yesterday – she’s not making complete sense, but she knows who I am and that Anna, Eli and I are coming. “Can’t wait to see you,” I said.
“Me too,” she said.
That’s all that matters.
For your entertainment, one of the silly cat videos that circles around the internet. A moment of relaxation, in your own mad dash to the finish line.
