In the Slow Lane

I Understand!

It's a miracle!  The spirit of Christmas has captured me.  Against great odds, it zoomed down the slow lane into the heart of this self-described Christmas curmudgeon.  


The Christmas miracle was not on 34th Street. (I've always believed in Santa.)  It shone in the eyes of a young, once athletic man now in the grip of ALS.   The spark, nothing more than off-key, raggedy renditions of Christmas songs sung in his living room by a few old laidies.


A child whose raising often led me to wonder if either of us would surive till his 21st year, prepares a joyous Christmas homecoming for his children and grandchildren.  A sweet and loving patriarch of his own little clan.


My mother, her life warped by torment of which I knew nothing while she lived.  Her Christmas table, always beautiful, truly an elegant feast offered her love the only way she knew how.  Lo, these many years and I understand.  Miraculously I understand!





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