Lazy Day, Old Times, Precious Things

by Bella Rum

Boy, I was lazy yesterday. I didn’t do one productive thing. Oh, I did make spinach-ricotta-mozzarella stuffed manicotti shells in the morning. When the time came, all I had to do was put them in the oven for 30 minutes. That, French bread and a salad is all you need. I found the recipe a million years ago when I was on Weight Watchers, before kale and spinach were all the rage, back when most people turned their noses up at it. I’ve adapted it a bit, but it’s a pretty healthy meal.

I’m going to write a few Christmas cards, but people just don’t send them like they once did. It’s gotten expensive. I’ve narrowed my list down to older people (I remember how Dad loved receiving them), and  old friends I don’t see often or haven’t seen in a very long time.

Dee-me-Christmas-Eve

Dee was born on Christmas Eve. This was taken at her birthday party. I’m on the left, looking so serious, and she’s the little blond.

I exchange cards with Dee Dee. My earliest Christmases were spent with her. Our parents were best friends. I haven’t seen her since I graduated from high school. We’ve written a short note in a Christmas card and put it in the mail for forty-six years, and we haven’t seen each other in as long. This will be our forty-seventh trip to the mailbox. Her life couldn’t have turned out more differently than mine. She never married, worked for over forty years in government, never had kids, owns a stable, a horse and a dog named Partner, and still lives in the house she grew up in. Different paths and very different lives.

Today, I’m going across town for a few things. H says he can’t stand the walnuts from BJ’s, which is only a couple of miles from here. He says they are “oily and smell funny.” So Sam’s it is. While I’m over there, I’ll do a few other things.

And finally, what is going on in our country, in our world? It’s all so disturbing. I know it is heavy on your mind and heart, too. It makes me want to hunker down, stay close to home and focus on my world – perhaps overmuch – but I can’t help but think of others, too. I have everything that matters, and yet I cannot afford to lose one single thing. They are all precious and irreplaceable, and others have lost what is precious and irreplaceable to them. Life is fragile, and the times in which we live will not let us forget that. Maybe it has always been so, but it feels different.

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