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Showing posts from December, 2005

Christmas in July

A warm day, like it had been the last day and the last day and the last day before this day and it was warm day like how all last days have been and will be.
These were the days when fans blasted out hot air, so you turned them off.
These were the days when everything sagged and sighed; the trees, the buildings and the human lives.
This was the the day that was to be the last day that my children would be living at home.

My children informed me of their plans to run away, after lunch.
"We are running away," they said to me.
"Okay," I said, back to them.
"After supper," they further said to me.
"Okay," I completely agreed with them. "If you want to go, then go."
And, "Yes," my children agreed, they would go.
My children reminded me several times an hour of their plan.
I nodded.
And supper hour came and went.

It was quarter to eight, when my daughter asked, "When are we having supper?"
"No supper," I said.