Out with the old....

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Christmas was put into the attic this afternoon. All but the Nativity. It stays until the Epiphany. 

Today. New Year's Eve. A time to remember. A time to look forward.

I re-found these treasures today.

Beach Boy's first song. I think it may be his only one, too. 

May 22, 1987.

Out of Town Son's Bean Story. 

September 19 1991. 

Daughter's sweet Christmas poem.

November 23, 1991.

It doesn't matter if you can't read them. They remind me that I had little children once. 

The memory is sweet. 

And yet another treasure...

Our neighbor was dying of cancer. Her son was our good friend. 

He is our history. He is in most every childhood story we recall.

He was the Dill in this childhood story. The one that was different. The one we felt we had to defend and take care of. 

And then he moved. We lost track. 

We still tell them.  Same stories. They get funnier. Every. Time. We. Hear. Them.

***

Tomorrow marks four years since my father died. Dad was a lover of words. He loved to make us look them up in the fancy encyclopedias he had invested in. 

He loved poetry. He loved reciting poetry.

And so I will wish you a Happy New Year with one of my Dad's favorites.

First FigBY EDNA ST. VINCENT MILLAY

My candle burns at both ends;

   It will not last the night;

But ah, my foes, and oh, my friends—

   It gives a lovely light!