It was early when I woke up this morning. And cold. I looked at the clock. I had another hour before the alarm would go off. Too bad. Once I’m up, I’m up, but not necessarily out of bed.
It’s another workday, I thought. (Back in September, I decided not to retire after all. I decided I’d work one more year. Maybe two.) What am I looking forward to? I wondered as my seventy-four year old body burrowed itself deeper under the bright new comforter I bought just a couple of days ago. It’s the softest comforter I’ve ever owned, although I am already taking its softness for granted, but not its warmth.
Today is Friday, January 8. It’s a new day, I think. A new week in a new year. But it’s winter. Oh god, why can’t I just skip winter this year? So far the winter’s been mild, but how long will that continue before the snow, ice and frigid temperatures begin?
I let my thoughts about the future slide and thought about the Christmas that just passed. (Funny how once it’s passed, Christmas always seems so far behind me.) It was a quiet Christmas this year. Pleasant and satisfying. Then, two days after Christmas, I took my youngest granddaughter to a toy store. “Pick a toy,” I told her. “Any toy.”
She picked two dolls – the girls from the movie Frozen, Anna and-
“What’s that one’s name?” I asked, pointing to the blond.
“Elsa,” she told me.
“Oh, right. Elsa. Anna and Elsa.”
“No Mom-mom,” she said. “It’s not Ann-a. It’s Ahna.”