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"Christmas gift?" I asked.
"Yep," said the dad, as his son, Joel, 11, took the green kayak out on its maiden voyage on Lake Ballinger. I said, "He didn't want a video game for Christmas?"
The dad said, "No, he also wanted a tent. It's a bit cold to try that out today." 

As Joel paddled over 200 feet away from the dock, Dad said, "Joel, don't go too far!" Mom yelled, "Go out as far as you want, Joel! Don't worry about Dad."
Lake Ballinger, Mountlake Terrace, 12-25-19.

I was in a restaurant the other day
when some Christmas music started to play.
It was Bing Crosby singing,
"I'll be home for Christmas."
I had a flash back to my years before
when I was alone on Christmas, first time.
I had just turned twenty in
San Diego, a U.S. Navy, enlisted man.
I had gone to dinner, alone
and did find a phone to call
my parents and wish them a Merry Christmas.
We celebrated the event of Christmas Eve
and would open presents, then off to
church for a Midnight Service.
I was alone, lonely and missing my family.
Not old enough, by law, to have
a drink. There was a feeling that
I still recall, when Bing Crosby started
to croon, "I'll be home for Christmas."
When ever I hear that song it takes
me back to that lonely time
in San Diego.

My friend from so long ago
The World has changed so.
We were young, you and I
But years have now passed us by.

Maria Popova shares the most important things her all-consuming daily endeavor taught her about writing and living. Read More