Quarter of nine.
The atmosphere outside is very dark and rainy now. Michelle told me that business was slow, and I speculated that a lot of people have Christmas Eve off. She had prepared many breakfast items in the warmer but there were hardly any customers. Her gray eyes smiled when I wished her a Merry Christmas. The rain mostly missed me when I chose to go out. It was only 37 degrees, so I bundled up and wore my old blue knitted hat that might’ve been made by my grandmother. She passed away when I was a second grader in 1975. I doubt if we would’ve gotten along very well if she had lived longer. She was the prototype for my sister and brother while my mother was a totally different person…
Quarter of eleven. My sister called me on the phone first, and then drove over with some gifts for me. I actually got to see her today, after a long hiatus. She came in the same old Toyota van, a silver Previa that belonged to my parents. I told her that her hair looked great, very white with a little gray. Her face bore a pained expression; I couldn’t guess what she was thinking. Perhaps she felt a bit regretful for something. She didn’t stay very long. It wasn’t raining when she got here, but now it has started again. The gifts turned out to be winter clothes. I’m going to need them, since the winter may be a long one.
Rain is likely tonight when we have church, so I’ll probably need a ride there.
Six o’clock at night.
Now it occurs to me that intellectual pride is not such a good thing… I wish I could take a nap for 90 minutes, or maybe bail out of the church gig tonight. But I’m committed to showing up. I feel very tired. Sometimes it isn’t about me after all, no matter what people are saying. I remember that pride inevitably leads to a downfall, and the bigger they are, the harder they fall.