Date: Fri, 7 Dec 2012 14:03:27 -0800 (PST)
From: Henry Brooks <hankster1430@bellsouth.net>
Subject: Christmas in a Warm Climate Adult Friends
Christmas in a Warm Climate
I was neither born nor bred in Manhattan, but if there ever were such a
character as a true New Yorker, you're looking at one. For many years,
Gerry and I had subscriptions to both The Metropolitan Opera and The New
York City Opera. We didn't subscribe to The New York City Ballet, but we
attended often. We never missed an opening night of a new Broadway
production. The opening of a new exhibit at The Metropolitan Museum of Art
found us both in attendance. We ate most of our meals at home, but every
Saturday night we went to whichever restaurant The New York Times was
recommending that week. We lived in the greatest city in the world, and we
took advantage of all that it had to offer.
Gerry and I met before we were out of our teen years. We were both
freshman at Columbia University and living on campus. He was from a small
town in Indiana, and I was from an even smaller town in Iowa. I left
because I knew I was gay, and the atmosphere for gays in a small town in
Iowa was hazardous to say the least. I didn't find out right away, but
Gerry decided on a New York school for the same reason.
My first class on the official opening day of school, excluding
orientation, was English 101. Gerry was in my class. The professor
assigned us seats alphabetically by first name. He said that he could
remember our names easier that way. Gerald sat in the middle of the second
row. My name is Kenneth, and I ended up sitting right behind him in the
third row. There were five rows of six seats per row in the class room.
We didn't speak to each other until the third class session. Professor
something or other (I forget his name) was a little late. I was in my seat
when Gerry came in. Our eyes met and we smiled. He looked quickly away,
and I could tell that he was very shy. I also knew, without a shadow of a
doubt, that he and I played for the same team. I'm not sure how it works,
but my gaydar is practically flawless. Before he could sit down, I held
out my hand and introduced myself.
"Hi. I'm Kenny, from Iowa," I said.
He shook my hand warmly. "Gerry, from Indiana."
"How do you like New York so far?" I asked trying to make conversation.
"I haven't gotten out much yet. I'm a little afraid to venture out on my
own. I never saw so many people on the streets in my life."
"Me too," I lied. I had already discovered some great gay bars in
Greenwich Village, and one on Columbus Avenue, but I didn't want Gerry to
know. "Maybe you and I could explore the scene together this weekend."
Gerry smiled, and his shoulders relaxed as if I had relieved him of some
great burden.
This was our only class together that semester. We had no more sessions
before the weekend, so I asked him what dorm room he was in, and I said
that I would pick him up after dinner on Friday evening. He surprised me
by saying, "Let's have dinner together Friday, and take it from there.
What's your room number? I'll pick you up at 5:30."
After that Gerry was far from shy. On our first date that Friday evening,
I steered him into a gay bar in The Village. As soon as he realized where
I had taken him, he grabbed me, hugged me, and started to kiss me, but he
thought better of it, and aborted the kiss.
I whispered in his ear, "My room mate lives in New Jersey. He went home
for the weekend. If you'd like to continue what you were doing later on in
my room, I would really love that."
"Do we have to waste the whole evening?" Gerry asked. "Can't we just go
there now?"
"I thought you were shy," I said facetiously.
"I am," he answered, "but not with you. Listen to me," he said very
seriously. "I'm a virgin, and I don't want to be one after tonight.
Please be my first." I started to laugh.
"You find that amusing?" he asked, sounding very hurt.
"Yes, very amusing. I'm a virgin too." Gerry grinned from ear to ear.
"Let's get outa here," he said.
That was the beginning of a forty-two year relationship. I'm not going to
tell you that neither of us ever cheated. We gave each other permission.
We were both engineers, and there was a lot of travel in our jobs, so it
was bound to happen. In the end it didn't matter. Gerry and I were soul
mates. He's gone now, but I know we will meet again.
We were pretty awkward that first night. All we did was whack each other
off, but after we recovered a little, I asked him if I could taste his
cock. We were both uncut and pretty average in the size department, so
neither of us was self conscious about size. The result of my attempt to
taste him was a bad game of sixty-nine. We both had to learn to keep our
teeth tucked in. It didn't take us long to perfect our techniques, and
neither of us was shy about swallowing our cum juices.
Anal sex came on the third week of our relationship. We discussed it at
great length before we tried it. We agreed to use rubbers for cleanliness,
and not because we were afraid the other might have a disease.
We waited until all our expenses for our senior year were paid in full by
our parents; then we let them in on our little secret. I'd love to say how
understanding they were, but they weren't. Neither of our parents ever
wanted to see us again. We got through that trauma because we had each
other to lean on, and we found strength in each other's love.
We each landed good jobs in different consulting firms in New York City.
We were on our way. We bought a co-op apartment near Lincoln Center and
set up household. We made many, many friends, both straight and gay.
Our favorite time of year in The Big Apple was Christmas time. We never
tired of gazing at the gaily decorated shop windows, the tree in
Rockefeller Center, and the tree in The Museum of Art, which was a work of
art all by itself. We would wrap ourselves with warm scarves and put on
gloves, and watch the ice skaters in the rink at Rockefeller Center, and
the one in Central Park. Sometimes we would even go ice skating ourselves.
I used to wish the holiday season would never end. The lights of the
ornately adorned city just bedazzled both of us.
Our lives were full, privately and socially. I, for one, never thought it
would end. And then one day it did end, and our lives were shattered.
Even though neither of us smoked, Gerry was diagnosed with lung cancer. By
the time it was diagnosed, the disease had travelled to his liver, and it
was over pretty fast.
I became a leaf blowing in the wind. I went along with the crowd, but I
had no idea what I was doing. My friends tried to keep me busy and
occupied, and I appreciated them, but their efforts were futile. I would
walk to a theater, and halfway there, I would forget where I was going.
I'd miss performances that I had badly wanted to see. Forget about work.
I couldn't even function, and I decided to retire at sixty-one. Now things
were worse. I had even more idle time to get through.
Gerry and I had been very close to another gay couple, who were about ten
years older than we were. They had retired to South Florida, and they kept
begging me (bugging me, actually) to come for a visit, especially in the
dead of winter.
The second winter after Gerry's death was particularly bitter cold and
snowy. I had given up all my theater subscriptions, and I pretty much
never left my apartment. I was becoming a hermit in our (my) apartment.
Early in December I received another invitation from Bob and his partner,
Bill, to spend the holidays with them. I was miserable, and I knew it. I
thought maybe a change of scenery would help, so I reluctantly decided to
give it a try. How much worse could it be celebrating with well meaning
friends in Florida, than with well meaning friends in New York?
I had never been anywhere in the world before, where winter wasn't winter,
so I relied exclusively on my hosts' suggestions as to what to pack. I
didn't even own a pair of shorts, but every department store in New York
had a cruise wear section where I was able to buy some appropriate
clothing. Originally I was going to book a ten day trip, but in the end,
at Bob's insistence, I booked two weeks. I wasn't staying at a hotel so it
would not cost me any more. In addition, by leaving several days after New
Year's instead of the day after, I saved nearly $100 on the air fare.
When the big jet took off at Newark Airport for Ft. Lauderdale on December
23rd, I was as frightened as a virgin on her wedding night. I could feel
the butterflies buzzing around in my tummy. Bob and Bill were close
friends. I was very fond of them, so I couldn't understand my growing
anxiety. Then it came to me.
All my friends in New York were constantly trying to `fix me up' with
someone, and I was getting fed up with it. I didn't want to be fixed up.
I was not ready, nor would I ever be, to replace Gerry. If Bob and Bill
tried to fix me up, I swore I would leave on the first plane out. I didn't
need their help to connect with a one night stand if I wanted to. The
higher the plane flew gaining altitude, the more I realized that I was
being very foolish, and I did indeed begin to calm down and enjoy the
journey. In fact, I dozed off.
I dreamed that I was standing in front of The Pieta, in the Michelangelo
Museum in Florence, Italy. Mary was holding the dying Jesus in her arms as
she always did, but something was very different. Ah yes, these were not
marble statues. These were flesh and blood people. Suddenly, the figures
began to morph. Mary was turning into Gerry, and Jesus was turning into
me. Gerry cradled me in his arms, rocking me gently.
"Don't cry," he said. "We are looking after you." What did he mean by
`we'? He, Mary and Jesus? I could only wonder. Gerry laid his hand on my
chest, and for the first time I could see a huge hole where my heart should
be. The hole was quickly filling with blood, and Gerry was trying to fill
the hole with something to stop the blood from gushing. I couldn't make
out what it was. He wasn't making any progress. The more he filled the
hole with the unknown substance, the more it filled with blood.
"Sir, sir," I heard a voice say, and someone was shaking my shoulder. I
opened my eyes. A handsome male flight attendant was looking at me with
some concern. "You must have been dreaming," he said. "You were sobbing
very loudly."
I was terribly embarrassed and apologized profusely. The flight was three
and a half hours long, and I forced myself to stay awake. If I was going
to have a break down, better to do it at Bob and Bill's apartment, than
amidst a couple of hundred strange people.
The flight arrived at 5 PM. I picked up my bag at the carousel, and walked
outside with my carry-on and my suit case. Bob and Bill told me they had a
white Lexus, and would pick me up at curbside. My first impression was of
the heat and humidity everyone talks about. Actually it was welcome. The
temperature in New York, when I left, was 28ºF. It was winter in South
Florida. I didn't realize at the time, that in an hour or so, when it was
dark, the temperature might go down into the sixties.
Car after car passed me by, but finally I saw a white Lexus. It could not
quite get to the curb. The front passenger window opened and Bill waved at
me. Suddenly the trunk popped open. I put my bags in the trunk and jumped
into the back seat. I should have been surprised, but I should also have
expected it. There was a handsome, very distinguished looking gentleman,
in the back seat.
I ignored him by greeting Bob and Bill profusely. When I could not ignore
him any longer, I stuck out my hand. "Hi," I said, "I'm Ken."
"I figured," he said with a smile in his voice, so that I couldn't take
offense. "I'm Bailey." I had to admit that Bailey was a good looking man.
I thought he was in his late forties, but it turned out that he was in his
late fifties, just a couple of years younger than I. How did he do it? I
wondered if he had had any plastic surgery. He hadn't.
"We figured you'd be hungry at this hour," Bill explained, "especially
since they don't feed you anymore on these airplanes, so we're going out to
dinner, and we asked Bailey to join us." Bill said it like there was no
plot, like they weren't trying to fix us up. That's a laugh.
"Don't look so unhappy, Ken," Bailey said. "These two guys have been
trying to fix me up for over a year since my partner died. There's no
discouraging them. I would say that you are their latest victim, but I'm
not sure who the victim is here." He broke out laughing and I realized
that he was treating this entire match making business as one big joke. I
decided to treat it the same way, and let it roll off my shoulder. I even
liked Bailey a little.
I had no idea where we were heading, but as I looked out the car window, I
could see houses, office buildings, and lawns, which were decorated even
more elaborately than in New York. The temperature was in the low
eighties, and I couldn't process the ambiguity. Wherever I looked, I saw
Christmas trees decorated with tinsel made to look like snow on branches.
I imagined that all of it should be melting. I just couldn't get used to
the whole idea of celebrating Christmas in such a warm climate.
The restaurant we finally arrived at was called Rosie's. It was in Wilton
Manors, which Bill told me was the so-called gay section of Ft. Lauderdale.
A valet took our car, and the head waiter sat us at an outdoor table. In
fact, most of the tables were outdoors. Once again I had to pinch myself
to accept the reality of eating outdoors on December 23rd. The temperature
had dipped to the mid-seventies and I was glad that I was still wearing the
blazer I had flown in. I looked around and there were plenty of diners in
shorts and tee shirts. I felt like a wuss.
"This place is noted for its hamburgers," Bailey said. "You ought to try
one." I took him at his word, and ordered a bacon burger with stewed
onions, and a side of sweet potato fries. It was delicious.
The four of us chatted cordially, and I learned that Bailey's partner,
James, had died of pancreatic cancer. We both had to agree that cancer was
a vile disease, and we expressed an open prayer that someday it would be as
extinct as polio. Somewhere in this world, I prayed silently, there must
be another Jonas Salk.
When we arrived at the apartment building where Bob and Bill lived, I was
surprised to see that Bailey got out of the car with us. He took my
carry-on bag and said, "Here, let me help you with that." I panicked.
Were Bob and Bill expecting me to sleep with Bailey that night? I think
Bailey saw the look on my face, because he started to laugh.
"Don't worry," he said. "I live next door to the guys, on the fourth
floor."
"Sorry," I said. "I'm getting paranoid about guys trying to fix me up."
"I don't like it either, but I won't let it bother me. My friends mean
well."
When we got to the front door, Bailey dropped my bag, and said, "Well, I'll
see you tomorrow evening. We're all going to church for Christmas Eve
services. Have you ever been to a gay church, Ken?" Bailey asked. I had
to admit that not only had I never been to a gay church, I hardly ever
attended any church.
"Good night, guys," he said, and he kissed Bob and Bill on their lips. He
kissed me on my cheek, and I wished he had kissed me on the lips also.
Bob and Bill's apartment was lavishly decorated for Christmas, and once
again, I had a feeling of total incongruity, especially since I could hear
the air conditioning purring away. Bob showed me to the guest bedroom,
which had a guest bath room as well. "You'll have total privacy," he
assured me.
I took advantage of the situation to take a long hot shower. I felt grungy
from the long trip. In the shower I thought about Bailey and his handsome,
manly, good lucks, and I was shocked to be getting an erection, so I
whacked off to relieve myself. I hadn't done anything wrong in admiring
Bailey's good looks, so why did I feel that I was desecrating Gerry's
memory?
At least the orgasm, which I had just experienced, helped me to fall asleep
rather quickly. Suddenly, my repose was disturbed by a bright light at the
foot of my bed.
Gerry was standing there. He was smiling at me, and he was naked. I
blinked my eyes to see if I was dreaming. I guess I was dreaming, because
when I looked again, he was wearing a white flowing robe. Now, standing
next to him, was a very handsome older man. He was at least ten years
older than Gerry. He too wore a white flowing robe.
"This is James," Gerry said. "In life he was Bailey's partner. We are
both very sad, Ken, that you and Bailey are so lonely, and won't allow
yourselves to find happiness. You both have long lives ahead of you, and
what you are doing to yourselves is just not right. We have to go now."
"Please, Gerry, don't leave me yet. Where are you going?"
"To visit Bailey and to deliver the same message. You two were meant for
each other. I beg you not to throw your lives away."
The apparitions disappeared and I woke up. I was amazed to find bright
sunlight streaming into the room. Where had the night gone so fast? I got
out of bed, went to the bathroom, showered and shaved and did other things.
I laid out the uniform of Ft. Lauderdale residents, i.e., shorts, T-shirt
and sandals. I didn't bother with underwear. I figured I would change for
church later in the day. It wasn't until I was dressing that I noticed the
time. I glanced at my watch as I put it on. It said 4 o'clock in the
afternoon. Impossible! It must have stopped during the night. I looked
again. The second hand was turning at its usual rate of speed.
I ran out into the kitchen, where I expected to find at least one of my
hosts. Nobody was in the house, but I found a note on the kitchen counter.
Dear Ken:
You were sleeping so soundly, we didn't have the heart to wake you. Bill
and I went shopping for dinner tonight. We invited Bailey to eat with us
before the Christmas service.
Help yourself to the contents of the refrigerator.
Hugs, Bob
I was still full from last night's dinner at Rosie's, so all I did was heat
up the coffee that was still in the pot on the coffee maker machine. I had
just taken my first sip when the phone rang. I wasn't going to answer it
unless the caller ID indicated that it was Bill or Bob. It was neither.
It was Bailey, so I picked up the handset.
He wanted to speak to Bill or Bob. I explained that I was alone, and I
asked if I could help him. He said that he only wanted to know if he could
bring something for tonight's dinner. I told him I didn't know, but asked
him if he would like to come over and have a cup of coffee with me. He was
over one second after we hung up.
I poured him a cup of coffee and as soon as we were both settled down
again, Bailey said something that scared the hell out of me.
"I met your late partner, Gerry, last night. It was in a dream of course."
"And I met James in a dream."
We stared at each other unable to speak. Finally, with great effort, I
asked. "Did they say anything to you?"
"Yes, they said I should tell you about my dream, and to be happy, move on,
and find a new person to share my life with. I think they meant that
person to be you. What did they say to you?"
"Essentially, the same thing. They said that we were meant for each
other."
Bailey put down his coffee cup, and laid his hand on mine. That simple act
sent shivers through me, yet it was warm and comforting.
"I didn't want to come down here for the holidays," I confessed. "I swear
I heard Gerry urging me on all the time. I got no peace until I booked the
airline tickets."
"I never wanted to meet you at the airport or have dinner with you, but
something in my mind kept insisting I do it."
"It's a miracle that we both had the same dream," I said, "but I don't know
what to make of the rest of it. Let's not talk about it now. Let's just
see what happens." We smiled at each other and sipped our coffee in
silence.
We were too overwhelmed to make much conversation at dinner either, and I
could tell how uncomfortable Bill and Bob were. I began to believe that
they thought that Bailey and I hated each other.
There was a pageant at the church that night. In the vestibule, they had
set up a living crèche. Over the crèche was a platform, and on the
platform stood a group of angels protecting the baby in the manger. Bailey
and I saw them at the same time. Gerry and James were among the angels.
They appeared exactly as we had seen them in our dreams.
"How many angels do you see?" I asked Bailey.
"Including James and Gerry, I see six. Why are you asking?"
I didn't answer. I looked over at Bill and Bob who were staring at the
crèche in admiration. "How many angels do you see?" I asked them.
They looked at me like I was crazy. Finally Bill found his voice. "What a
funny question to ask," he said. "Obviously there are four. Why are you
asking?"
Bailey and I looked at each other and smiled. "No reason, Bill," I
answered. I took Bailey's hand. "Don't you think we should all go into
the sanctuary and find seats?" I asked.
Both of us were filled with the love of the Christmas season. Bailey held
my hand so tightly that it hurt, but I didn't want to discourage him.
"Do you believe in miracles?" he asked me.
"I didn't until yesterday. I do now."
"Do you believe in love at almost first sight?" he asked again.
"I do now," I said, and I leaned over and we kissed each other for the
first time.
"Atta boy," I distinctly heard Gerry's voice. At the same time Bailey
jumped.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"I swear. I just heard James's voice."
When we got home Bailey invited us in for some eggnog and apple pie. We
accepted. When it was time to go, I apologized to Bob and Bill, and told
them that I was staying with Bailey that night.
You know what? They weren't upset at all. They went next door to their
own apartment with the biggest smiles I had ever seen on their faces.
When we were alone, I whispered to Bailey, "Merry Christmas, Friend."
"Merry Christmas, Love," he whispered back.
We embraced, and I swear I heard singing, but I didn't know where it came
from.
We then kissed, exchanging saliva and spit for what seemed like a
marvelous, wonderful, long-sought-after eternity. Without losing any
contact in kissing, I began unbuttoning Bailey's shirt while my
"Sunday-go-to-meeting" tighty-whities were getting tighter and tighter as
Bailey likewise began unbuttoning my shirt.
Quickly the dress-shirts came off, and we grabbed each other's T-shirts
close to the belts and yanked them out of the other's dress pants, forcing
us to release our locked lips as the soft cotton T's came off — like I
felt I was about to — over our heads. LOL.
I noticed that Bailey's bulge wasn't up-tight and pushing forward like
mine, but his was throbbing along his right thigh as it grew thicker and
thicker and seemed to be sliding up the leg of his trousers.
"Get your pants off, and I'll do the same with mine," I said, hurriedly
unbuckling, unzipping, pushing down, toeing-off, stepping out, and grabbing
a similarly naked, heavenly-sent partner-to-be for God only knows how long.
Again, we kissed, and then we kissed some more, rubbing each other all over
— as much as possible while still kissing — frotting his
thicker-than-mine against my longer-than-his excited, throbbing
member... oh, Hell! You know what I mean. I wanted him so much, and at
that moment, Bailey said, "Let's not rush this."
He lovingly took me by the hand and led me down the short hall to the
Master Suite of the condo. At the door, he asked, "Which of us carries the
other across the ... threshold?"
I looked at the gorgeous hunk standing next to me, shrugged my shoulders,
got a stupid look on my face, then looked down his chest and abs to his
tempting "sausage" and put my hand around it. He understood my silent
meaning, and he grabbed my only-slightly-longer "hot dog".
Together we walked into the bedroom, and turned toward the Queen sized bed
to the left, and immediately stopped ... shocked at what we saw. His
stranglehold on my cock was suddenly yanked to the side, and I very nearly
fell to my knees.
We saw the impressions of two people lying there, a few inches apart.
Slowly, the impressions began rising, as if the two would-be people were
floating upward, and then suddenly the comforter was completely smooth —
not an indent or depression of any kind.
But what WAS laid there were four roses — two white and two red —a
white and a red, next to each other, but the two reds were nearer the
center of the bed, and the two whites were nearer the outside edges of the
bed. Each two was tied together with red and white curling ribbons, and
beneath the stems was a folded piece of plain white paper on top of the
comforter.
"From James and Gerry," Bailey said at the same time as I said, "From Gerry
and James." Tears came into our eyes as smiles of the Season of Peace and
Good Will crept across our lips.
I made my way to the right side of the bed, while Bailey made his way to
the left side of it. Together we lifted the roses and smelled them. The
reds smelled of cinnamon; the whites, of the same frankincense we had
smelled at the midnight service at church.
We looked across the bed at each other. Our eyes were yet a little sad,
but our smiles showed our new-found happiness —happiness radiating in
more ways than one.
We each picked up the notes that had guarded the cut stems from dripping
any of their mutual sap onto the comforter. Then we both moved to the
upholstered bench at the foot of the bed, and sat next to each other. Mine
had my name, Ken, on it, in Gerry's handwriting. Bailey's note had his
name on it, and in James's handwriting, as I later learned.
Together, we opened them, and began reading aloud. To my Dear Ken, mine
began. To my Dear Bailey, his began. Then we began reading aloud the same
words together.
We thank God and praise the angels in the Highest that you have found each
other; we've been hoping and praying that you would. Now you can both be
happy with each other and stop worrying about us — neither of us has any
pain at all, especially now that you're together.
We know that you'll never stop loving us, as we hope that you'll know that
we'll never stop loving you. As you know ... Love ... True Love ... goes
on forever ... and will never die.
Bailey and I stopped reading at the same point and looked at each other
with silent laughter coming from our bellies and heart-filled-chests,
enormous smiles that actually hurt, and with rivers of tears. We turned
back to the notes and continued reading aloud.
The red roses are for the Love that you and I had, and the white ones are
for the Sadness and Emptiness you've both experienced since we left. Now
hold the roses in one hand as you intertwine your fingers with...
My note said, Bailey's; his note said, Ken's.
Know that from this day forward, you two will be as one, and also know that
at some future date in your time (which is the same as today in our time),
we four will be together as one, for eternity. You think you can put up
with us that long?
Just remember — we'll always love you. And some one, or two, or more
days, we might just stop in to see how you're doing. You probably won't be
able to see us as you did earlier tonight, but we'll be there, and we'll
see you.
And now, my Love ... the Light is getting stronger, and we're being called
home. We can hear the angels singing; there's work to be done, both here
and there — it's not all sitting on clouds around here, ya know, or
continual singing of beautiful hymns, or cleaning off dusty angel's wings;
no sir-eee!
And on that note of Gabriel's Horn, I'll just give you a final kiss...until
we meet again.
I love you, Hon.
My note was signed, Gerry; his note was signed, James.
We were still naked, you may remember, and after crying a bathtub of tears,
we each got a glass of water, then showered, dried off, and got into bed
about 2 AM. We held each other for the longest time, saying nothing, doing
nothing, not getting erect, just absorbing everything we'd experienced
since meeting at the airport.
"You awake?" Bailey asked in a whisper.
"Yeah. I was about to ask you the same thing."
"I've got to read that note again."
"Me, too."
We both jumped out of bed. Bailey's motion detector turned on the bedroom
light. We hurried to the dresser across the room and looked at each other
with furrowed brows.
"What happened to the roses, Bailey?" I asked.
"I don't know. Where'd you put yours?"
"I laid mine in the center of the fold of the open note. You?"
"I did, too. But there are no roses, and the notes are closed. What
gives?"
Slowly, simultaneously, we opened the notes. The words were still there,
but instead of the roses, some golden dust was strewn across a portion of
each fold of the two notes. "Dust?" we asked each other, but as the days,
weeks, months, and years passed, we began referring to it as our Angel
Dust. We kept it safe.
* * * * * * *
As time passed, we showed our "notes" to fewer and fewer people. All they
could see was white paper, but no words.
The notes became aged with handling, but Bailey and I could still read
them, more often at first, but not quite so, as time and arthritis grew
more quickly, or was it our minds that couldn't concentrate so well?
Now and again, Gerry and James stop by for a visit. We can't see them any
more, but we do feel their presence and we can almost hear their loving
voices.
And here it is ... almost Christmas, once again.
What we do feel is that tender kiss to each of us as they leave us once
more.
"Until then, my Loves," we both say to them. Merry Christmas to you and
the rest of the Heavenly Hosts ... Until then."