An extract from my thinking

The following was written during the lunch hour while I was at a time-management course at Fanshawe College. I know there is much I should be writing about, but I just don't seem to have the energy any more. Anyway, read on:

I found myself sitting at my desk in my one-day time-management class, enjoying my lunch and playing Spider solitaire on my computer with, as usual (perhaps the reason I'm in the class?), a wandering mind. Suddenly, I found myself thinking about a Christmas long ago, in my childhood in the house I grew up in on Avenue Road. In this recollection, I am sitting at the dining room table, feet curled from the inside out around the front legs of the dining room chair that marked -my- place at the table. I am colouring. It is the afternoon, probably around lunch time and it is either a weekend or a holiday, because I'm not at school, but I'm not sick. It's quiet in the house. We were the first house on the block to install sliding doors out into the back and ours were the kind that have panes, so they looked like French doors, rather than a standard plate glass patio door. I used to like how the light came in and used to try to take artful photographs of the outside through the panes, maybe with a plant in front, but it never really worked. There were light, filmy transluscent drapes that hung on either side of the doors, in front of the pair of covered radiators on which the cats used to sleep. It was a really beautiful room and I spent a lot of time at the table, not just eating - we used to try to have most of our meals at the table back then - but doing homework, doing art, working on projects, practicing the various instruments I was learning to play. There was a certain way that the chairs scuffed the hardwood floors, snagging in the cracks and making the chairs creak dangerously. The chairs had a habit of collapsing for no apparent reason and you never knew when it would happen. Sometimes only the slats would fall out like a folding fan opening, the way they did that time when Tracy was over, on rare occasions the wrong twist on a chair leg could cause the whole thing to hit the ground, legs akimbo, but chair back still rigidly upright. The table creaked, too; it still does, as do the chairs for that matter, but they don't collapse any more. The table would click and creak with a staccato rhythm when I coloured, my hand working back and forth over the sheet, marker or crayon leaving behind streaks and stripes of colour. The marker, in this case, made soft shushing sounds as I worked. I am, in this recollection, colouring transluscent paper Christmas ornaments of the sort meant to look like stained glass. It's a lovely colouring book sent to me, I think, by my Tantes - my Dutch great-aunts.

Not so festive spirit

This time last year, I was struggling with spending my first 'stmas away from home, up in the Yukon. It was a nice enough time with friends up there, but I desperately missed being surrounded by old friends and family. As you can imagine, I was quite excited for this year's holidays because I'd be home again. Unfortunately, my delight has been tempered by a schedule too busy for card-making and most recently, sad news.

Two close friends of the family are in hospital. One is in varying health, up one day, down the next. She might be dying. It's unclear. The other is my mother's best friend, Julie, who has always been like a close aunt to me. She was just admitted to hospital with kidney stones for which they may have to operate. This is the same Julie who had the massive stroke a few years back. Julie's latest health concern was almost too much for my mother to process as only two days before, we'd heard from another close friend's husband...

Saturday morning, we lost a close friend to what was apparently cardiac arrest. While none of us were surprised by her death - alcoholism had been taking its toll for some time - the timing and how quickly it happened were pretty shocking. We have been estranged from this friend and her husband for a couple of years now as the drinking was almost intollerable. In recent months, there had even been discussion among other mutual friends about an intervention. For almost a decade, my family, another family and this couple had done Christmas dinner together. She was welcoming to my mother when my mom first moved to Peterborough and helped my mother when she had her stroke. It's been a tragic decline watching as the booze changed her. An autopsy is being conducted on her and I won't be at all shocked if it comes back that she had more than just alcohol in her system. You don't drink the way she did if you're happy with your life. What a terrible waste of an intelligent, funny woman.

I pray that our hospitalised friends regain their health and return to their normal lives for the new year. It might be selfish, but I admit I don't know if I can handle more than one funeral over the holidays.

Other than that, I'll be spending my time with my mother and with close friends. My cats are already in Peterborough visiting their 'cousin' Willy. Apparently, they're getting along all right. I plan on writing my final paper of the taught portion of my degree, which is due the 7th of January, as well as putting together a workplan for the upcoming exhibits at ML. I should probably write my draft for the exhibition, too. So, I'll be busy, but at least I'll be able to sleep in.

I sincerely hope your holiday is full of love and good health. Merry Christmas, happy Hanukkah, etc.