I got to go away and come back again.

I hear it’s snowing back home. I wouldn’t know. I’ve been in Tucson for a week. This is what we’re dealing with here:

And…

And…

One issue: Christmas is rather… different here. It’s 71 degrees here. So, here’s this:

I sit there and write every evening. Also, there’s endless coffee and tea and people come over to you and say things like, “How are you? Is there anything you need? You just ask me, for whatever you need. Anything. We will move heaven and earth to provide it, dear lady. Also, your skin is glowing.”

So, you know, basically not much like home at all.

I have been at a spa resort place, doing the speaking thing. And it’s wonderful. The pear sorbet. The hour massage. The bed coverlet that has is downy and soft. The sleeping in. All of it is so not the Motherhood, you know?

And I miss my family like crazy.

And I get to return to them (please Lord!) tomorrow. If the snow allows. My track record with flying to this company’s facilities is not the best. Sober travel, y’all. It’s a thing. But only if you have the serenity prayer on repeat in your brain, and also maybe you get to sit next to this.

So, say a prayer?

And I’m just about to head to a daily 12 step meeting, and we are all going to talk, all of us who are from all over the world with all different lives and makes and models:

We’re all going to talk about how we are very much the same.

We are the lucky ones – the recovery folks. In the super-nice spa places, or in the church basements with the bad coffee in styrofoam cups, we are all the same.

And tomorrow, Lord willing, I’ll be back home in my beloved Bedford Falls, with my family, enjoying a small town Christmas and all its trappings. But my skin will still be glowing (thanks to the Russian lady who told me “dis is for da wrinkles and da spots so they, VOOF! Go avay.” She was right. I look 27. Which, since sometimes I still feel 23, is pretty damn good.)

This is what I missed while I was off doing the speaker thing:

What? You don’t know your Swedish heritage? This is the St. Lucia celebration in our town, where they dance and parade downtown to the church to sing “Children of Our Heavenly Father,” in Swedish. Of course they do. Doesn’t every town do this?

See how he laughs? With all of him? We should all be so lucky to be this way.

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