A Little Rest

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I certainly go through lack of sleeping jags that drive me crazy. Up at 4:45 on Thanksgiving Day when I could have gone to 9 or 10 but would have settled for six.

Oh well, I was determined to enjoy the day anyway and I had a few wonderful moments, like when I was able to snap the above photo, on my mother's birthday, after sharing a tremendous meal that my brother Jim, the man with the heart the size of the Grinch's prepared with little help at all.

I had stopped out early, way early, to give him a hand, but instead, we toasted Dad and Jeff, and shared a few laughs over 2 drinks. (Just 2, I swear) as we waited for the rest of the guests to arrive.

And the grim reality of it all is that there are less guests showing up now. The heartbreaking realization of that sat over the table and pressed down on our heads, but we ate, watched football, and playfully made fun of one another as my wife and mother spoke of the Christmas shopping, and the days ahead.

Spoke of the days ahead.

So that's where we are. Three days of rest and relaxation is what I have planned. They are calling for a snowstorm tonight. Fine with me. I am a widower to the shopping game as Kathy busts her ass to get the best deals, and then will rehash it tonight as though she is talking about a golf game where she got the best score of her life.

"I chipped in from off the green," will be akin to, "I got in line right when the store opened and got the very last _______ before this big bitch of a lady got hers."

And I'll nod my head and smile, and wonder if the load of laundry is ready to be switched to the dryer, and that will be my big challenge for the day.

Perhaps a movie. A few book notes. Nothing too cerebral. Load the dishwasher. Talk sports with the boys. Wrestle the dogs. Glance at photos where the smiles seem a little stilted.

And speak of the days ahead.

The book is at the typesetters. My nephew is on the mend. The snow is going to fly. The Sabres are in last. The Bills are done for the year. Baseball dollars will soon be flying around like bingo chips.

And I'll be here. A big container of my mother's stuffing is calling to me from the fridge. A nap here. A worried sleep tonight.

Perhaps the shopping news will work as my tranquilizer.

Just living.

And trying my best to enjoy the full catastrophe of it all.

Comments

Carrie Lynn Fazzolari said…
Because sa-aa-aad eyes, never lie-i-i-i-ie... Mom's eyes look so sad.
29 November, 2010
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