Boxing Day

Dressed and ready, puttering around the unnatural clean neatness, minor anxiety. Early bird awkwardness liquidly dispelled. Kitchen fills, overflows, guests arriving through three different doors, coats piling up, wine or beer, spiced cider yes as always. Rising tide of sound, pushing through to welcome singles, couples, families, friends of. Oh, I didn’t see you come in have a drink. Bouncing like a bee from friend to friend. Thanks and farewell. Don’t go just yet have another drink we haven’t had a chance. But others go. A little more space to move. Longer conversations, lower volumes. Down to a few, quietly rehashing, catching up. Then the family alone, wonderfully if temporarily expanded for the holiday. A quick clean-up, the annual search for uneaten potato chips—usually forbidden—and a long, easy, bottle of beer. Great party.


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