You should call my Dad and leave a singing birthday message on the machine. If someone picks up the phone, hang up and try again. I promise people don't like answering the phone at that house (I don't know if I can call it my house anymore, because people always answer the phone here, and it is often for me).
I wanted to send you a Christmas present, but it didn't fit nicely in a box. Is it okay if I tell you what it was instead? You can come and pick it up anytime you'd like.
I want to give you a sidewalk covered in freshly fallen snow that crunches when you walk on it. I want you to smell the way a bakery smells in the morning when you walk past its open door. I will buy you a cup of Glühwein to warm you up because it is so cold outside. I am saving a place on the couch for you, where we will watch all the movies that mean Christmas, one after the other. And we will sing along to all the songs we know by heart. When we run out of movies, we can stay up late, talking, and lose track of time, and then the sun will rise and bathe the snow in a soft pink glow and we won't ever go to bed so that Christmas never has to end.
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2 comments:
I want snow! take pics.
you just made me cry, kari collins.
i wish i could package home (version: usa) up and send it to you, just for a day or two.
you're so brave kari, so brave.
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