Regardless of the masses of Christmas festivities planned by the social-committee-type-people, a mournful air of homesickness could be felt in the atmosphere. I felt hum-drum and melancholy. Something was not quite right. I was meant to be taking a Christmas light tour on Tuxedo Ave, or Cherry Rd, or watching Secret Adventures or Doughnut Man Christmas Specials with Lisa. My other friends were no more positive than I. We pouted and sighed as we watched fish leap out of the water, midst the floating rubbish.
Along came Fred, a jovial, young-at-heart deck-hand who shook us from our self-pitty stupor by reminding us that Christmas is not a time to be sad that we can't be with our immediate family, it is a time to rejoice and celebrate Jesus' birth with our eternal spiritual family. And with that, the cloud of gloom began to lift...
(to be continued)
Hurrah for Fred! Thank him for me! We missed you too, of course. And even Tuxedo Avenue missed you; they weren't lit up this year. It was a strange Christmas, but we got lots of rest sitting on the couch, sometimes in pajamas, watching HGTV.
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