When I woke up this morning, there had already been a fair amount of activity. A whole holiday cook book (including Hanukkah recipes) had been hand printed, illustrated and bound, several presents had been wrapped and copious tiny gift cards had been created and distributed on said presents. I think this is just about my favourite time of Christmas. I get so delighted seeing all the little fragments of shiny paper and coloured pencils strewn around the tree. The lights are like tinder for a stream of gift ideas and decorations that just need a little paper and tape and creativity (and a stapler never goes amiss) to assemble. The elves are busy.
I won't visit you this month. You won't call. I will raid your garden and you won't get any of the vegetables. I will make plans without telling you about them. We'll go to the store and not buy you one single thing. Whole books will be read and I will not tell you which ones. I will watch movies and not inform you. The nasturiums will ripen. Last month was different. I changed my schedule and took time off work to be with you. I dropped all kinds of plans for us to be together. You sent me messages, I received them. I picked up food that I thought you would like at the store and sent you pictures of every beautiful thing I saw. I sang with you. We watched the Great Canadian Baking Show. You chose the recipe for the garlic scape pesto and gave me instructions for making the gooseberry jam. I am in August without you. You are in July.
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