And the stockings were hung…

By the chimney with care…

Sometimes things turn out just the way you imagine they might… Next year there will be four.  Four stockings.

I grew up in a four stocking family.  And soon so will Emily.

I have a fireplace.  In our  new house.  And greens on my mantle.  And Burl Ives has told me the story of the Misfit Toys several times already this month.  It’s almost perfect. Next year there will be four stockings.  And then it will be perfect.

Merry Christmas, Baby D.  No stocking for you this year.  But next year.  Next Christmas you might even be walking.  Quick drunken steps from the foot stool to the couch.   It will be hard to remember a time when you weren’t here with us.  See you soon, sweetheart.

Gimme some love!! Please?

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