Carving out a Canyon

It is foolish to believe that any day that is presumably more special than any other. All days, regardless whether we humans desire it otherwise, are basically the same as all others. What this means for me is that for the first 15 minutes of the day, sometimes more, sometimes less, life will be quiet and peaceful. Then the younger of my children will arise and usually be in quite a pleasant mood. Then the older of my children will arise and snarl about something, making sure all of us are aware just how unpleasant she feels and desiring us to share in this (she is altruistic in this, after all). Alternatively — and yes, while I am comparing the sameness of every day, it is the theme that is the same, but there are variations on the smaller of the details — the older of my children will arise and say something (pleasant or otherwise) to the younger of my children, who will then react with severe complaining because the older of my children is not allowed in the brain of the younger of my children to have anything to do with me, and this therefore results in quite a great fuss by the younger of my children.

Thus begins the day. It doesn’t matter if we are on vacation. It doesn’t matter if it is Christmas. It doesn’t matter if it is my birthday. This is how it goes and I would be a fool to desire it otherwise because any other way is not how it goes. This is how it is.

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