The Thanksgiving week was almost perfect.
They never are exactly perfect, you know. There’s always something or someone missing or someplace you would like to also be.
But this one, as i have documented in several places, was damn near perfect.
It is over.
The Christmas season — and i don’t care if the politically correct are offended, this is the Christmas season — is officially on in my Southwest corner.
i’ve hung the sign. One of the photos will likely be with my Democrat column tomorrow, but it won’t be this one:
But tonight, there is a different feeling here. A feeling of peace. Calm. Peace.
Maureen and i spent the day getting organized. We coordinated our calendars to make sure we would not miss any of the events for the next month. We took care of business — Maureen is much more adept at that than i. Maureen prepared dinner from the Thanksgiving dinner. It was perhaps even better than the first time.
When finished, i hand washed the dishes. Our niece, Danielle Guzman, had a post that reminded me of the feeling i have gotten for many years to return to my after meal chore from growing up in a wonderful home.
Then we sat down in our family room. The two indoor cats, as usual, curled up on Maureen’s legs. “Bagger Vance” was on the Golf channel, and we watched, again, because we like the feel-good feeling.
Now Maureen is taking her bath. The rain has passed through and i will play golf tomorrow with Pete Toennies while Maureen will spend time with Nancy.
The night is quiet. The television is off. i sit here thinking about life and how it’s never all good and it’s never all bad and we have the choice to enjoy it or be depressed by it. In today’s world, the latter is easy.
But as i contemplate, i choose enjoyment. The world is full of wonders and to focus on the idiocy of hatred, ignorance, bigotry, drawing lines in the sand, and keeping score for perceived slights is a one-way street to sadness.
So i sit here thinking about all of the wonderful people i have met in almost seventy-three years. i think about all of the things i would like to tell them even though the chance of seeing them again is slight.
There are not many folks who have a wood fire in the fireplace. Mine is ablaze. The picture above the hearth is from the Beara Peninsula, another place where i have found peace.
And in the silence, i have peace.