a reel
a poem
a hot buttered rum
My mother was known for her hot buttered rums in winter. I missed her so much this Thanksgiving that I did nothing. I went to a restaurant. Mistake.
I can make a Thanksgiving with my eyes closed, almost. And today I shall. It’s easy.
I’m also going to get the tree. If not today, tomorrow. Although today might be better.
Christmas. Day Five.
xxoo!
Trying to stay cheerful is not always easy for writers. This is one of those cold days when it is going to rain but not quite yet. Tonight perhaps.
I really miss my mother. I do.
Merry Christmas to you.
VALENTINE BONNAIRE - WRITER 