Tis a few days to Christmas and it feels like only yesterday there were weeks left for preparation. I cannot remember a single holiday where everything was ready well in advance, bows tied on package ribbons and Christmas lights in every window – none blinking. But feeling as if everything is going to fall to pieces is part of the frenzy and by now the feeling is as cherished as the smell of gingerbread men. Not that there will be any smell of gingerbread men in my house this Christmas. For this I would need the 23rd to be 27 hours long. When there is nothing on the news here it is quite common for the internet papers to post articles showing before and after pictures of crystal meth addicts. I do not know why as there is no crystal meth here but I guess the ravaged and ruined faces have an appeal beyond police prevention tactics. I find them horrifically sad. Why anyone would take such a drug is beyond me but then again I am lucky enough to have been born in a country where almost everyone gets their chance at life – not by any means the same odds at a good life but a chance. I have the flu. It is horrible and my face resembles the crystal meth addicts. Or a leper. I have not made up my mind which likeness is more apt. Neither are particularly a festive look. But salvageable come Monday.
To those reading this I wish you and your loved ones happy holidays. Here Christmas is called “hátíð ljóss og friðar” or: the festival of light and peace. On that note one cannot but reflect upon the incredible sadness now being experienced by the parents, friends and relatives of those who died in the school massacre in the US. I for one cannot believe otherwise than this staggering tragedy will be a turning point in the approach to gun ownership in the country. Anything else is unacceptable.
Yrsa - Wednesday
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