My new book “Midlife Solo” is now available.

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getting there

Lists. Lists lists lists. The other day Wayson came with his car and drove me around to get the heavy stuff – the 18 pound turkey, the huge sack of potatoes. Today I decided to make the stuffing – 2 days in advance. I got out the food processor which I use only to chop up breadcrumbs and spices for stuffing, and of course, it does not work. Spent half an hour trying to get it to work and another half hour pulling bits of bread into little pieces. But the stuffing, though lumpy, is made. Cross that off the list.

This afternoon, to the Farm to check on things for the pageant. There’s fresh snow, it’s very pretty, but doesn’t make the job of preparing this event any easier. However – all systems go.

A woman on Parliament Street stopped me. “Our children were in nursery school together,” she said. “So you’re still in the neighbourhood? And you’re still alive, that’s what counts.” Yes, yes it does indeed count. She complained that her children come from far away for Xmas with their spouses and kids and a very big dog and after a few days they all can’t stand each other. I am very glad my children come from the other side of town and then they go home. And we all love each other very much.

Wayson came again tonight, for supper and to watch the end of “The Crown.” What a superb series, fantastic. After he didn’t seem to want to leave, so I proposed a few home movies, transferred some years ago to DVD. We watched a film from Xmas 1986, the year we moved into this house. The film quality is appalling, and the quality of the camerawork is even worse. But still – there are my parents and my uncle Edgar, gone now. There’s Auntie Do, very much alive more than 30 years later. And also my ex and me – my face unlined, my hair brown, bustling around helping our little kids, aged 2 and 5, open presents, cooking, serving. In this very kitchen, this living room. She’s a stranger; I can barely remember her. It kind of hurts to watch, to think about that time. I’ll watch it all again sometime, for research, without boring my dear friend.

A small watcher this morning stood checking out the kitchen. Probably waiting for an invitation to Christmas dinner. With lumpy stuffing.

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2 Responses to “getting there”

  1. theresa says:

    Such beautiful photographs, Beth. I have happy memories of walking over to the farm and hanging over fences to pat the horses. I hope the pageant is lovely.

  2. beth says:

    Survived another one, Theresa. Pictures to come. Merry Christmas to you and yours!

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About Beth

I began keeping a journal at the age of nine. Nearly fifty years later, I started this online journal, sharing reflections, reviews, updates, and the occasional secret.

Some Blogs I Follow

Chris Walks
This blog evolves. It once was about travels. Now it’s a reason to be at the keyboard that I value.

Theresa Kishkan
Theresa Kishkan is a writer living on the Sechelt Peninsula on the west coast of Canada.

I walk on. With my feet, and in my mind as well.

Carrie Snyder
Wherever you’ve come from, wherever you’re going, consider this space a place for reflection and pause.

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