A morning filled with bittersweet wonder, a Christmas morning. Ghosts of families past, people lost. Feeding our animals, celebrating them. Giving gifts to one another, drinking hot tea, staying late in bed, talking about our lives, our pasts, our futures. Hard in this world to cut Christmas morning off from the rest of the frantic and anxious universe. But important. Reading, doing puzzles, visiting friends. Last night we streamed “White Christmas,” that easy, hokey, simple tale from another time. We tried streaming other things, but Netflix was struggling on Christmas Eve. We sat before the fire, laptops in our laps.

This afternoon, visiting friends – George Forss, Jenna Woginrich, Donna Wynbrandt, others – celebrating the meaning of animals in our lives. I’ll call my daughter, my brother, my sister. A bittersweet morning, as it life. Feeling the effects of my soul retrieval, something I never imagined I would do. Those are the best gifts, aren’t they? The things you thought you would never do. That you do.