Sunday, December 28, 2014

Good Morning Jack

Letter to my SonSunday, 28 December

Good Morning
Jack…

It’s
Christmas day. The antebellum home sits
on a hill overlooking the neighboring farm.
There are horses, of course, and a few donkeys. But there is also a camel, some llamas and
gazelles. I want to say there is an
ostrich but I honestly can’t remember. It’s
a clear oversight if there isn’t.

Christmas is
all about family. You look at a home and its surroundings and you have to know the entire shebang is centered on the love of a woman.

This is her brother. A man works his life, not for
exotic cars or luxurious homes, but for dignity and the respect of those he
loves most.

The barn is
a mysterious place. It’s nestled amidst
trees and near a pasture. A cat lives
inside. He startled me when he made a flying
leap from the loft, sailing ten feet to the ground. Landing on his feet he went lickety-split out
the barn door and straight for a thick hedge.

It’s an
obligation for the man of the house to fall asleep after eating. His wife is wide awake but she’s happy to be
near him.

The young
lady in charge of festive atmosphere happened to dress as a mouse for the
occasion.

Seldom does
it get better than this. They can’t
believe how lucky they are to know each other.