Christmas

I hit French ground standing.  That was a rarity. A quietness came down on everything like a snow effect, except we were many degrees off having snow.
I stood at the Moulin window and looked out along the canal to my old end of the street and imagined that my face would always be there looking down.  I took the washing in from the line and watched the sun light the bellies of a flock of gulls, up on the hill I turned at the moment a gust of wind shook the oak tree and watched until the last leaf had fallen.
Something was out of kilter, but I liked it. 
The bug must have got me at Newry station or on the bus to the airport or on the plane.  It introduced itself on christmas eve eve night, waking up my joints with aches and drenching the sheets.  Gabby arrived like a silvery presence, Isaac glided up and down the stairs, Ju, at some point hung a pig's leg on a beam in the middle of the room.  I coughed all night into a teapot and ate oranges. I slept in a bobble hat and wrapped myself in coats and scarves. I heard the cathedral bells ringing for midnight mass and the boys laughing over the game of dice.  I drank Nico's variation of a hot toddy which involved Earl Grey, lemon juice, honey and rhum and fell into a deep sleep.  
Christmas morning and bed was too damp to stay in without getting pneumonia so a parallel me stripped it and washed it and hung it to dry.  The same parallel me made Lizzie a cup of coffee laced with cognac while the real me shuddered in a corner trying not to breath on anyone. 
When Jo arrived with her musical hat and an armful of presents some version of myself went to try and find her some wine but there wasn't any left.  I tried to talk but my throat didn't work. I went back to bed where my book was too heavy then slept the sleep of angels burning in hell.