25 December 2013
I’m about to sit at the dinner table for noche buena. Just opened up a bottle of sparkling wine, the food is ready, and the house smells fantastic.
I’m feeling mellow and good. Moments like these, I believe that the world is all right, and life is beautiful. It’s all the cliches but that’s needed every once in a while, no?
Will write you more in an hour or two. That is, if I’m not too drunk, ha.
Merry Christmas, M. From my home to yours.
I am in bed now. Very sleepy. We’ve opened another bottle of red, one of my favourites (a Chilean wine) and I finished most of it. Guess I’m really feeling better.
Now I’m fighting for a few more minutes just so I can send a quick note to people I love and whom I can’t be with physically.
Tomorrow’s going to be anticlimactic, I think. So I just want to say that even though my year hasn’t been everything I wanted it to be, perhaps it was what life needed it to be, and in the end I think I have turned out all right. Bruised, I mean–but all right just the same. And even if the day wasn’t perfect, the night–tonight–still had its magic.
The Christmas Letter
John N. Morris
Wherever you are when you receive this letter
I write to say we are still ourselves
In the same place
And hope you are the same.
The dead have died as you know
And will never get better,
And the children are boys and girls
Of their several ages and names.
So in closing I send you our love
And hope to hear from you soon.
There is never a time
Like the present. It lasts forever
Wherever you are. As ever I remain.