After the Christmas morning festivities, after one family group has left, and while we wait for another to arrive, I sit on the front porch, enjoying the quiet stillness that can only occur on one day each year. Is everyone gone to visit far-off relatives? Are they all hunkered inside their homes, keeping to themselves? Every five minutes or so, I hear a car in the distance. A neighbor kid rides what looks like a brand new bike in circles in the deserted intersection of our road and a cross street. I hear two men’s voices about a block away, laughing; probably stepped out for a smoke and/or a beer. My daughter has her new doll perched in the windowsill, combing her hair. Her mother’s enjoying a long, hot shower, with her fancy new soap. Me, I’m back inside, sitting on the couch, watching my dog snooze at my feet, carefully keeping watch over her new Christmas bone.
Christmas. The one day when everything feels OK.
“Daddy’s on the couch, not thinkin’ ‘bout his worries…” - Binky Griptite, “Stoned Soul Christmas” (Daptone Records)